


Where I Started From...

by alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist



Series: The Poetry in Emotion arc - incomplete [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Lemon, M/M, Timeline What Timeline, Violence, Yaoi, by Aoe, clueless Heero, judgemental Wufei, make that uber angst, poor Duo!, understanding Trowa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 08:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13586181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist/pseuds/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist
Summary: by AoeWhen the boys are forced to go to ground in a city slum, Duo's past comes back to haunt him...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1st note from Dacia: this fic has some really dark elements. if i missed a tag, PLEASE let me know.
> 
> 2nd note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

_Do you remember yesterday?_  
Do you remember what I was like down?  
I feel that madness come my way  
I must drink to the vicious clowns.  
  
I don't know if they found your ears  
But I used to have a lot of names.  
Then one so tender pushed me here  
And I watched as they fade away.  
  
Again I wake up on the tiles  
And it's like I was never gone.  
Then just before the pain comes on  
Remember this is where I started from...  
  
\- "Do You Remember Yesterday?" by Terry Moore

*~*~*~*~*

Wufei peered disdainfully around the rat hole of an apartment.  
  
"This place ought to be condemned," the Chinese boy muttered irritably.  
  
"Yeah, well, sorry it's not up to your high standards, Wu, but it was the best I could manage on short notice. Now could you please get the fuck out of the way? Trowa's heavier than he looks," Duo's equally irritated voice commented from the doorway behind Wufei.  
  
Wufei scowled at being ordered about by the American, but did remove himself from the entryway so that Heero and Duo could carry their wounded companion inside. Quatre hovered nervously behind the group, quickly closing the door and locking it once they were all inside.  
  
"Duo, keep your voice down! What if someone had heard you and come out to see what was going on?" the Arabian admonished once the door was shut.  
  
Duo followed Heero's lead in dropping Trowa's long body onto the dilapidated couch, then turned to roll his eyes at Quatre. "Oh please, like anybody around here is gonna stick their head out the door out of freakin' curiosity," he said sarcastically.  
  
Quatre frowned. "Well, why shouldn't they? It's human nature," he murmured, moving past the American, who was now stretching the kinks from his body that carrying the unconscious Trowa up three flights of stairs had created. Heero was carefully checking every inch of the small apartment for signs of surveillance equipment. OZ knew they were in the area, and they were all nervous about the ease with which Duo had negotiated the apartment. It seemed like a trap. Quatre knelt beside Trowa, and began checking the taller boy's bandages.  
  
"Trust me, they wouldn't ­ Ah, fuck, Quatre! We just changed the dressings a few hours ago! We're gonna run out of supplies if you keep pulling them off!" Duo protested, interrupting himself. He stalked over to the couch and lightly slapped Quatre's delicate hands away from the bloody bandage wrapped around Trowa's narrow waist.  
  
Quatre frowned up at the braided pilot. "We have to make sure his wounds don't become infected," Quatre argued sternly.  
  
"His wounds are already infected," Wufei remarked flatly, drawing Duo and Quatre's attention to him.  
  
"What? Where?" Quatre demanded a bit frantically, even as Duo shoved a hand into his hair and muttered, "Ah, fuckin' perfect." Quatre shot a brief glare at Duo, then turned back to Wufei, wide sea-blue eyes pleading.  
  
Wufei obligingly lifted the bandage on Trowa's upper arm, displaying a deep puncture wound that had obviously become infected. The skin around it was red and puffy, and the wound was oozing a yellowish puss around the neat stitches. Quatre reached out and brushed his fingers against the reddened skin, pulling his hand back with a hiss at the heat.  
  
Heero reappeared behind the couch, next to Wufei. He glanced down at the wound and pronounced, "Didn't get the wound clean enough. Or the needle or sutures were contaminated."  
  
Duo shot him a nasty look. "Thank you, Captain Obvious," the braided boy muttered. Heero shot a frown at Duo. The American had been acting differently since they'd been forced to go to ground here in the slums. Harder, a bit meaner. Heero shrugged it off and wandered away, checking out the small kitchen and two bedrooms.  
  
"We'll have to remove the stitches, recleanse the wound, and restitch it," Wufei added. Duo shot the Chinese boy a look that clearly said Wufei was about as helpful as Heero. Wufei sniffed in irritation and stalked away.  
  
Quatre remained on his knees, staring in mute fascination at the septic wound. Duo looked back and forth from Trowa's arm to Quatre's face, wondering which pained him more. The arm, probably. Quatre would survive worrying. Trowa...   
  
Duo reached out, carefully probing at the edges of the wound, assessing the heat of the inflamed skin and the puss that oozed at his touch. Quatre made soft noises of protest and disgust beside him, but Duo ignored the blond, intent on determining how far gone Trowa was.  
  
His conclusion left him both relieved and troubled.  
  
Heero appeared again, now at Duo's side. Duo straightened up and shared a look with the stoic boy. Heero quirked one wing-like brow in question, the flat eyes never wavering as his hand slipped suggestively towards the small of his back where his gun was concealed. Duo gave a minute shake of his head, and Heero's hand stopped, hesitated, then dropped to his side. He'd accept Duo's assessment, but the coldness in his eyes warned, "For now."  
  
If the choice came down to Trowa's life or the survival of the rest of the rebel pilots, Heero's mission was clear.  
  
Still, Duo thought he detected the barest glimmer of relief in those dark eyes as Heero once more drifted away.  
  
Pushing Heero out of his mind, the braided boy stared down at Trowa's still form, chewing idly on a fingernail as he tried to figure out how to help his friend.  
  
The plain and simple fact was, they didn't have enough medical supplies left to treat Trowa's infection, and even if they did, his other injuries still needed tending, or they could become infected as well.  
  
"Gotta get more supplies," Duo murmured to himself.  
  
"Now who is stating the obvious?" Wufei demanded imperiously from his position next to the small grimy kitchen window. The Chinese boy was not so foolish as to make himself visible. He stood to the side of the window, hidden in shadow as he peered down at the street. His lip lifted in a sneer at the rather ragged looking people below. It was mid-afternoon, when Duo had said they would draw the least attention moving Trowa into their new home. Indeed, the streets were rather sparsely populated. There was a bar on the corner, ancient neon less than impressive in the dreary light of day. One unfortunate drunk was evicted headfirst as Wufei watched, landing in the gutter. The man remained where he landed, either too drunk to get up, or unconscious.  
  
Or dead. In this neighborhood...   
  
Wufei's sneer grew as a boy who looked about their age detached himself from a group of youths hanging out on the steps of a tenement and ran over to the drunk, quickly rolling the body and running back to his gang, a wallet triumphantly clutched in his hands.  
  
"Scum of the Earth," Wufei muttered in disgust. Duo suddenly appeared at his shoulder, also staring down into the street.  
  
"Hey, don't be so anti-social, Wu-man. These are our new neighbors," Duo admonished. His grin was as wide as ever, but when Wufei glanced in irritation at his companion, Duo's violet eyes were intently studying the group of youths congregated on the steps. He looked like he was analyzing something.  
  
Duo's sudden serious demeanor made Wufei uncomfortable. It broke the established pattern of behavior.  
  
"Shouldn't you be out stealing supplies for Trowa? That is one of your few skills, isn't it?" the Chinese boy demanded haughtily.  
  
Duo shot him a brief glare, then simply shrugged. "Can't risk it," he replied with uncharacteristic brevity.  
  
Heero appeared before them both and with a sharp tug, caused the blinds to fall over the window with a metallic clank, dimming the small kitchen to near darkness.  
  
"Why not?" he asked flatly, dark eyes fastened on Duo.  
  
Duo crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the dusty yellow Formica counter. "In case you haven't noticed, this is definitely the low rent district," he drawled.  
  
"Coming here was your idea," Wufei cut in, ignoring Heero's angry glare at having the answer to his question interrupted. Duo glanced at Wufei, a look of weary tolerance in his usually laughing eyes.  
  
"Yes, it was," he agreed with obviously forced patience. "And I stand by that decision. Whatever it's drawbacks, a neighborhood like this is the best place to hide, because nobody around here is going to be too keen to talk to anybody who looks like Authority," he explained yet again. Duo was getting just as tired of saying this as Wufei was getting of hearing it.  
  
"So why can't we risk stealing supplies?" Heero demanded, obviously irritated at having to repeat himself.  
  
Duo turned back to the Japanese boy. "Because of those drawbacks I mentioned. Nobody around here expects anybody to come to their rescue, Heero. They're used to looking after themselves, and that makes them very cautious, and very protective of their property. Now, it's possible I could manage to swipe some supplies from a free clinic or something, but it's just as likely I'd get caught, and we can't risk that right now."  
  
"What do we do, then?" Heero demanded, his hand once more twitching towards his gun. Duo let out an irritated huff of air.  
  
"We need money," he muttered, almost to himself. "And not just for medical supplies. Trowa's hurt bad, and even if he wasn't, OZ knows we're here somewhere. It could take a while before they ease up enough for us to slip out. We're gonna have to pay rent, utilities, buy food... " he glanced at the rusty faucet in the sink and winced, "probably water, too... " The violet eyes glazed over as Duo considered the list of expenses.  
  
"We don't have any money," Heero reminded him flatly.  
  
"I'm aware of that," Duo muttered, grabbing his braid in one hand and dusting the loose end against his chin. "I had some cash, but most of it went for the security deposit on this hole," he added, glancing around at the dirty little apartment.  
  
"So what do we do?" Wufei demanded.  
  
Duo shrugged. "Well, obviously, one of us is going to have to go out and rifle up some funds," he replied.  
  
"We can't all go out. The fewer of us that are seen, the better," Heero snapped.  
  
Duo nodded. "I'll go," he announced quietly.  
  
Wufei frowned. "You're the one who had your picture on all those wanted posters, Maxwell," he reminded the other boy harshly.  
  
Duo frowned, but only shrugged again. "Maybe, but that was up on the colonies. They probably won't know about it around here."  
  
"Until OZ starts posting them again," Heero cut in. Duo shot him an unreadable look.  
  
"Yeah, well, until that time, I've got the best chance of fitting in out there. This is my turf, and I know how to deal with these people. You guys would just get us found that much quicker," Duo argued.  
  
Wufei opened his mouth to protest, but then considered the scene he had just witnessed below. He stared assessingly at Duo for a moment. Maxwell was a street rat, born and bred. True, he was a colony brat, but some things ought to be universal...   
  
"Well, I suppose you are best suited for the job," Wufei decided with a sniff.  
  
"Thanks," Duo muttered, and Wufei wondered why the American had argued so firmly to be given this responsibility if he didn't want it.  
  
"Medical supplies and food are our main priorities," Heero stated, as though he were listing off mission objectives. "How you obtain them, or the money to purchase them, is up to you. Just don't endanger yourself or the rest of us."  
  
Duo smiled grimly at the pilot of Wing. "Ninmu ryoukai," he commented acerbically. Heero scowled and walked away. After a moment, Wufei followed the Japanese boy. Duo remained in the dim kitchen, staring at nothing.

+

"Hey, I need to borrow some clothes," Duo declared a few hours later. He glanced around the little group congregated in the living room. Three pairs of eyes looked back at him in surprise and confusion.  
  
"What for?" Quatre asked warily. Duo's wide smile faltered for a second, then he shrugged.  
  
"I don't exactly blend dressed like this," he commented, running a hand down the front of his black priest's tunic. Heero frowned.  
  
"True, but it's never stopped you before," the Japanese boy remarked coolly.  
  
Duo stuck his tongue out at Heero and rolled his eyes. "Just give me a pair of your shorts," the braided boy demanded. Heero's frown deepened, but he obligingly dug one hand into the duffel bag that still lay at his feet and produced a pair of spandex biker shorts, which he tossed to Duo. "Thanks ever so," the American gushed sarcastically, earning a snort from Heero.  
  
Violet eyes scanned the room's other occupants, and Duo sighed. "Not much to choose from," he muttered. Quatre appeared embarrassed, and Wufei relieved, that they apparently didn't have any clothing suitable for Duo's foray into the streets. Duo shrugged. "Guess I'll wear my tee shirt to the thrift store," he muttered, padding back into the small bedroom he and Heero would be sharing to change his pants.  
  
Wufei raised an eyebrow at Quatre, but the Arabian had already returned his attention to Trowa. Heero was amusing himself by disassembling and cleaning his gun, then putting it back together. He'd done it three times already. Wufei was beginning to wonder if it was some sort of compulsive behavior.  
  
Heero's laptop sat quietly in a corner. It was plugged in, but they didn't dare try to send any messages out. The small computer was simply waiting for an incoming message from one of their superiors, letting them know it was safe to break cover.  
  
Duo wandered back into the room, now wearing only a pair of tight spandex shorts and the short-sleeved black shirt he usually wore to bed. The shirt was old, and repeated washing or a growth spurt had left it just a bit too small for general wear.  
  
Wufei blinked in surprise. It was not often that one saw Duo in such revealing clothing. For some reason, the American always seemed to go to great lengths to conceal his body as much as possible. Wufei knew Westerners tended to have more body modesty than Easterners, but Duo could be a bit obsessive. Wearing double shirts in the middle of summer, for example.  
  
He'd always just sort of assumed that for some reason or another, Maxwell was ashamed of his body.  
  
Studying the elegant lines of firmly muscled yet slender legs and torso, Wufei decided that Maxwell had nothing he could see to be ashamed of.  
  
The Chinese pilot glanced over at Heero to see if the Japanese boy shared his assessment.  
  
Heero appeared entranced.  
  
"What are you going to a thrift store for?" Quatre asked as Duo knelt and began rummaging through Heero's duffel, not bothering to ask permission. Heero was now studiously ignoring the longhaired boy. Wufei wondered at the slight note of accusation in Quatre's voice, then realized what caused it. _Of course. If Maxwell is going to a store, that implies he still has some money, which Winner feels could be better spent on Barton._ Feeling a sharp pang of hunger, Wufei reflected that he thought any money they had could be better spent on food.  
  
Duo paused in his digging and glanced up at Quatre, apparently also having caught the slight edge to the blond's tone. "Working clothes," he declared finally, a strange little half-smile twisting his lips.  
  
"Oh!" Quatre said in surprise. "You... you mean you're going to... get a job?" he asked in confusion.  
  
Duo frowned slightly, turning his full attention to the contents of Heero's bag, which he began emptying on the floor. "Yeah, something like that," he muttered. Suddenly he picked up the bag and slammed it back down on the floor, turning to glare at the Japanese pilot. "Damn it, Heero, where's my freakin' knife?" he demanded.  
  
Heero turned his cold gaze away from his gun for a moment, staring down at the kneeling Duo, then calmly reached to the small of his back. One smooth motion and a little clicking sound, and he held a nasty looking short blade against Duo's throat.  
  
Quatre gasped in surprise, and Wufei tensed slightly. He always wondered if Yuy might just snap someday...   
  
Duo just smirked at the other boy. "Cute," he remarked sarcastically. "Are you done yet?" Heero held the pose for another few seconds, then shrugged and hit the button to retract the blade with another little click. He tossed it into Duo's lap and turned back to cleaning his gun as though nothing had happened.  
  
"Headcase," Duo muttered to himself as he picked up the knife and reached with both hands to fumble with the thick braid at the base of his skull. After a moment, he drew his hands back, and the knife was gone. Wufei's eyes widened slightly. So there actually was a use for all that hair...   
  
"Try not to get captured," Heero growled, apparently in reply to Duo's insult. Duo bounced to his feet, still wearing his familiar clunky black boots. He stretched his lean body, the tight black clothing leaving little to the imagination. Suddenly, he leaned forward, a mischievous gleam in his violet eyes, and gave Heero a small kiss on the cheek before dancing back out of range. Heero, not to be baited, simply ignored the gesture. Duo pouted dramatically, laughed at his own expense, and gave them all a brief wave before disappearing out the door.  
  
After Duo left, Wufei watched Heero for a few minutes. Sure enough, the Japanese boy's face finally did a slow burn in reaction. Wufei smirked to himself. Maxwell had been teasing Heero for months now, and it looked like the stoic boy was finally starting to react. Where that would lead, and what Maxwell did it for, were anyone's guess.  
  
"I wonder what kind of job Duo plans to get?" Quatre wondered aloud. Wufei frowned, but he wondered the same thing. Surely Duo wasn't planning on going job hunting now? The workday was over! Of course, he had noticed that the noise from the street below had only gotten louder over the past hour...   
  
Perhaps Maxwell was seeking some kind of night job, where he would be less likely to be recognized and blow their cover. Wufei had to approve, if that was the American's reasoning.  
  
_Probably he just doesn't want to get up early_ , the Chinese boy thought to himself. Shrugging off the whole question, after all, Maxwell had volunteered for the mission, Wufei turned back to the book he was reading.  
  
Seeing his companions' lack of interest in discussing Duo's possible plans, Quatre sighed and turned his attention back to Trowa. _Everything will be all right, my friend_ , he promised silently, gently enfolding one cool, long-fingered hand in his own. Trowa's cheeks were taking on a noticeable flush, and Quatre hoped that Duo could get some more bandages and medication soon.  
  
Heero methodically disassembled his gun for the fifth time, laying the parts out on the rickety coffee table in rigid order.  
  
His hands performed the simple, routine task without the aid of his brain. Which was a good thing, because Heero Yuy was not thinking about the assembly and cleaning of his firearm at the moment.  
  
The single thought that occupied his entire mind, and fueled the light blush across his cheeks, was: _Duo Maxwell is wearing my pants._

+

Duo browsed slowly through the racks of the mostly deserted thrift store he'd located three blocks down from the apartment building. He wasn't really looking for anything specific, but people donated the weirdest shit to charity sometimes, and he was hoping to find something eye-catching. Failing that, he'd settle for something tight and a little less grungy than his sleeping tee.  
  
He'd already plundered the 'extras' bins, which were generally filled with useless crap that nobody could quite find a place for. Duo had wondered in amusement if some local biker gang had made a charitable contribution considering all the worn, studded leather bits and pieces he'd discovered. Then he'd reminded himself of where he was, and realized that probably the stuff was looted off bodies left behind after a gang war or skirmish. This store was one of those that bought used clothing, so either the winning gang or some lucky opportunist had probably cashed in big.  
  
Shrugging, he'd carefully selected a few belts that he could cut down to his size and two thick wristbands with heavy snaps to hold them on. The wristbands were a bit loose, but that was all to the good. He'd gone for the heavy, metal-spiked leather because he knew it would emphasize and accentuate the delicacy of his frame and features. It made a nice contrast that would make him look more like the sweet innocent he hadn't been for so very long.  
  
But it wasn't quite enough.  
  
Finally, in the girls' section, he found it. It was meant to be worn over a tank top, but he decided he didn't really need one. It was summer outside, and hot enough to fry an egg, even at night. Besides, the more skin he flashed, the better.  
  
It was a purple mesh shirt, the weave wide enough to stick the end of his smallest finger through the holes. It was a bright, vivid purple, with metallic threads woven in that made it sparkle in the dim light of the store. It had long sleeves, but those could be easily cut away, and being made for a young girl, it ought to be skin tight on him.  
  
Smiling in satisfaction, he draped the flimsy thing over his arm and headed for the bin of discarded makeup and hair accessories near the register. Just a few more things and he'd be ready... for work.  
  
The smile slipped slightly at the thought, but he settled it firmly back in place, forcing himself to focus on his current task. Time to think about why he was doing this later. Actually, best if he never let himself think about it at all.  
  
_Just do it. Don't think about it._  
  
Duo grinned at the bored middle-aged woman behind the counter. She snapped her gum at him and turned back to her magazine. Duo pawed through the junk bin, happily fishing out some shocking violet eyeshadow and an almost full tube of iridescent body glitter.  
  
"Boy, I sure am lucky tonight," he muttered to himself, ignoring the clenching in the pit of his stomach as he dumped his selections on the counter.  
  
The shopping trip was finished. Next came...   
  
He shuddered, fishing money out of Heero's shorts as the bored woman rang up his purchases. He supposed Quatre did have a point, they could have spent the remainder of his cash on medical supplies, but...   
  
"Sometimes you have to spend money to make money," he muttered nervously under his breath. The woman shot him a curious glance, but when he didn't say anything else, she just told him the price, and he paid.  
  
She wished him a nice night with a strange smile on her face and he wondered if she'd heard what he'd said. He threw her a dazzling smile, at which she complacently popped her gum, then turned back to her magazine.  
  
Duo shrugged and shuffled back out into the night, looking for someplace convenient to change. He could hardly go back to the apartment and put this get up on. Wufei would die from blood loss, Quatre from shock, and Heero... Heero would die when Duo finally killed him for never reacting to anything he did.  
  
Smirking to himself, Duo scanned the surrounding neighborhood, searching for a condemned building. Hopefully he could find an unclaimed room and be able to stash his night clothes there during the day. They might get ripped off, but he could always buy more.  
  
After all, he shouldn't be hard up for cash for very long.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Ever get the feeling I watched too much 21 Jump Street? Do you even remember that show? Well, if you haven't gotten that feeling yet, some of the dialogue in this section should hit you right upside the head with it. If you don't know the show, think any cheesy late eighties/early nineties 'crime drama.' Sigh. I'm so rural middle-class.

It was an infinitely weary Duo Maxwell who dragged himself up the stairs back to the apartment the next morning.  
  
He ached. He'd forgotten the pain. It had been a while. Worse than the pain was that feeling of griminess, from sweat and other things dried on his skin. He felt like he could scratch layers of it off his body without hitting skin.  
  
He felt dirty. Nasty. Tired. Sore.  
  
He just wanted food, a bath and sleep, not necessarily in that order.  
  
He finally made it to the door, and stared at it blankly for a moment, trying to figure out how he was supposed to open it with his hands full. Finally, he just kicked it until it flew open before his boot and he nearly fell on top of Heero and Heero's gun.  
  
Duo regained his balance as Heero kept the gun pointed between his bleary eyes.  
  
Duo blinked. "Ohayo, Heero," he muttered, and shuffled into the apartment past the other boy, disregarding the cocked firearm. You learned to ignore that sort of thing when you lived with Heero. Duo dropped the bags he carried on the floor just inside the door while Heero quickly checked the hall, making sure no one had followed Duo. Then the Japanese boy shut the door, tucked the gun back into his pants, and turned to glower at Duo.  
  
"You didn't come back last night," he observed coldly.  
  
Duo shrugged, trying to stifle a yawn. "Didn't say I would," he replied. He smirked. "You didn't wait up, did you?" he asked mockingly, expecting a snort and a reply of, "Baka."  
  
Heero just stared darkly him. "Yes," he said flatly.  
  
Duo blinked, woken up a little by sheer surprise. He felt a warm, genuine smile lifting his lips as he whispered incredulously, "Really?"  
  
"Maxwell! Where the hell have you been?" Wufei demanded, appearing out of the room he was sharing with Quatre. Trowa was still unconscious on the couch, since there didn't seem to be any point to moving him. Wufei had been up for an hour, but had taken to hiding in the bedroom to avoid Heero's restless pacing as he awaited Duo's return.  
  
Duo's smile disappeared at Wufei's arrival. _Oh._ Everybody _was waiting up._

"Don't yell, I brought food," Duo said wearily to Wufei, too tired for his usual exchange of insults with the Chinese boy. Wufei's eyes lit up with momentary joy, then narrowed warily.  
  
"It's not that disgusting American fast food garbage, is it?" he demanded.  
  
Duo forgot his weariness again as his anger abruptly flared. He'd been out all night, working his ass off to provide for his friends, and Wufei was insulting his offering? His hands tightened into fists, but unfortunately, he was so tired, and the events of the night had been so... unsettling, that his anger brought tears to his bleary eyes.  
  
"Well, nobody said you have to eat it. Sorry if it's not fucking good enough for you, Wufei," Duo ground out, glaring through the tears that hadn't fallen yet at an astonished Wufei. Before they _could_ fall, and embarrass him further, Duo stomped into the small bedroom he was supposed to share with Heero and threw himself down on the bed.  
  
He was asleep in minutes.  
  
+  
  
Wufei stared in shock at the closed door of Heero and Duo's room. Had Maxwell actually been... crying? It hardly seemed conceivable, but Wufei was certain he'd seen the shimmer of tears in the bloodshot violet eyes...   
  
And now Heero was glaring at him as if the Japanese boy would cheerfully empty his clip into Wufei on the spot.  
  
So perhaps, yes, Duo had been upset.  
  
"I didn't mean... " Wufei began hesitantly, but Heero abruptly ceased glaring and picked up the bags Duo had dropped, carrying them into the kitchen as though nothing had happened. Wufei sighed and followed. He really did prefer solo missions.  
  
Heero was unloading the bags, producing a bunch of greasy fast-food offerings that Wufei didn't dare sneer at, but also an assortment of healthy looking fruit and some milk and orange juice. Wufei felt a twinge of guilt at seeing the fruit that Maxwell had probably had to go out of his way to find.  
  
_Well, he volunteered for the job_ , he reminded himself brusquely.  
  
Heero continued unpacking, finding that there were a few more basic food items like bread and cheese, and also a large roll of gauze and some over-the-counter fever medications. Wufei picked up another bag and found hydrogen peroxide and a case of suturing thread. Maxwell had been very thorough. Working silently with Heero, he helped separate food from medical supplies, and then to find an appropriate location for all of it.  
  
Quatre stumbled into the kitchen as they were putting away the last of the groceries, and his eyes brightened at the sight of the greasy bags still sitting on the counter. He happily plundered through them, pulling out a disgusting sandwichy sort of thing. It looked like some sort of biscuit with egg and ham and quite possibly cheese oozing out of it. Quatre bit into it happily. Wufei looked away, disgusted. Heero handed him a grapefruit.  
  
"Duo brought in food?" Quatre asked after swallowing.  
  
"Aa. Medical supplies, too," Heero answered in his usual monotone. Quatre immediately put down his food and started to move toward the living room. Heero held out a hand and stopped the blond. "Eat first. Have to keep your strength up," the Japanese boy ordered. Quatre frowned, wanting to see to Trowa's wounds immediately, but had to acknowledge the wisdom of Heero's advice. If he didn't take care of himself, he couldn't take care of Trowa. Sighing, he picked up the breakfast sandwich and took another large bite.  
  
"Where's Duo?" he asked when he'd finally managed to swallow all of it. Heero wordlessly handed him a jug of orange juice.  
  
"No cups," the Japanese pilot explained. Quatre wrinkled his nose slightly, but drank from the jug as Heero informed him, "Duo went to bed. He seemed tired."  
  
Quatre shot a sideways glance at Heero for that comment. It was extraneous information. Heero didn't give out extraneous information.  
  
Heero stared determinedly at the half-eaten apple in his hands and tried not to think about how ‘tired' did not even begin to describe how Duo had looked.  
  
He wanted to go check on the American. Just to make sure he was all right.  
  
He took another bite of his apple.  
  
Quatre finished his breakfast quickly in the uncomfortable silence that descended on the room, and began pulling out the medical supplies Heero and Wufei had just painstakingly organized and put away. When he had them spread all over the counter, he picked up what he needed and headed for the living room, leaving the rest behind.  
  
Heero stared at the mess, a muscle in his jaw working spasmodically. Couldn't there be any sort of _order_ on this botched up mission? First Trowa had been injured, then OZ had run them to ground in this shithole of a city, then Duo had to go out and spend the night doing gods-knew-what to support the rest of them, _and now Quatre couldn't even leave the supplies in order!_ Everything was flying completely out of control and Heero wanted to shoot something.  
  
Wufei picked up on the tension in Heero's lean frame and carefully eased out of the kitchen before Heero could remember that Wufei had upset Duo earlier. Heero looked like he wanted to shoot something, and Wufei suspected that his transgression would put him at the top of the list.  
  
Out in the living room, Quatre was murmuring soothingly to Trowa as he checked and rebandaged the uninfected wounds, waiting for assistance before he tackled the arm wound. Wufei knelt beside him, and together they pulled off the bandage, noting the skin seemed redder and warmer this morning. Wufei welcomed the distraction of cleaning out the wound when Heero strode purposefully from the kitchen to his bedroom a few minutes later.  
  
+  
  
Heero sat in the room's single hard chair and watched Duo sleep.  
  
Just watched him. Just stared. He could do it for hours. He _had_ done it for hours, some nights when he couldn't sleep himself.  
  
He studied the lean frame collapsed face first on the narrow bed. Duo was wearing the same black outfit he'd gone out in the night before, leading Heero to wonder what had become of the plan to acquire work clothes. Perhaps the money had gone for food and medical supplies instead. Perhaps Duo had wandered the streets all night and not found any sort of job. Perhaps that was what had caused the dark circles beneath the luminous violet eyes, the weary slackness of the usually smiling mouth. The full lips were slightly fuller than usual, looking somehow swollen, though Duo didn't seem to have been hit. Heero couldn't explain that, so he didn't try to.  
  
He also couldn't explain how Wufei's offhand comment, hardly unusual or even particularly mean, had driven Duo nearly to tears. So he didn't try to explain that either. He just accepted it.  
  
Heero was good at that. There were a lot of things he didn't understand. Why he couldn't have a childhood. Why he had to pilot a Gundam. Why five teenagers were the only hope for the colonies.  
  
Why he had to kill.  
  
Why he felt... better... when he was near Duo Maxwell.  
  
Heero didn't understand any of these things, but just because he didn't understand them didn't make them any less true.  
  
So he simply accepted them.  
  
That was just the way things were.  
  
+  
  
Duo leaned his back against the cool metal of the lamppost, enjoying the slight lessening of the oppressive heat of the surrounding air. Just so he wasn't being completely frivolous, he rolled his head back on one shoulder and raised one knee, planting his booted foot against the post, adopting a seductive pose. He knew precisely the effect he got. He'd spent enough time practicing this particular skill.  
  
He rolled his head forward, long masses of unbound auburn hair sliding with the motion to half-curtain his body. The hair was heavy and horribly uncomfortable in the heat, but it was another facet of his performance, and a trait that made him unique. Half of it was actually still braided down his back, but the upper layers were loose, held back only by a few flimsy barrettes picked up at the thrift store. There was just too much of it to let it all loose. Besides, his hair was very special to him, and touching it was an intimacy he didn't really like to allow.  
  
But he could usually get a higher price for it, so...   
  
He'd already exceeded the hundred he'd set as his nightly minimum, and he was seriously considering just going back to the apartment and taking a nice long bath in the ancient iron tub. He was so hot out here, and he felt dirty, sticky... He'd been doing this for a few days now, and they'd managed to save up some of his earnings. Maybe he could stop for a few days?  
  
Duo frowned behind the barrier of his hair. If he wanted a few days off, he ought to stay out and see how much more he could bring in tonight. It was Friday, and had been very profitable so far.  
  
But God, how he wanted to get off the street...   
  
"Hey, cutie, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" a husky voice asked from behind Duo.  
  
He sighed, then tossed the hair aside and threw a heavy-lidded glance at the fat, sweaty, balding man grinning at him from a few feet away.  
  
"I'm not a girl, baby, but I can scream like one," Duo purred suggestively, running his hands over his lean hips.  
  
Baldy chortled, a thick, disgusting sound. Duo fought down a gag and smiled wickedly.  
  
"Yeah, you're one hot little number all right," Baldy declared, eyes running appreciatively over Duo's barely-dressed body. Duo smiled and tried to ignore the way the man's hungry gaze made his skin crawl. "I don't know, though... you look kinda fragile for a guy like me," Baldy continued skeptically, but the gleam in his eyes showed it was this very fact that had led to his approach.  
  
"I'm stronger than I look," Duo boasted, making his eyes wide so Baldy wouldn't believe him.  
  
Baldy's grin grew predatory and Duo didn't try to hide his shudder, knowing the man would be excited by it.  
  
_Ick._

"What do you say you and me go someplace a little more private," Baldy murmured in what he probably thought was a seductive tone, but sounded more like he had a wad of phlegm in his throat. Duo smiled wider, stepping over and pressing his body against the bloated older man. It was really way too hot for that sort of thing, but what the hell?  
  
Baldy began leading him away from the brightly-lit street corner Duo had staked out a few nights ago. Oddly enough, there hadn't been any competition for the cherry spot. Duo had worried about that, but after a few nights of no trouble, he'd decided that maybe he just wasn't hooking in the prime area.  
  
Baldy seemed to be headed toward one of the nearby tenements, and Duo allowed himself to be half-dragged, one of the hot, stubby hands working it's way down his shorts even as they walked. Duo managed to turn his squirming discomfort into a reasonable approximation of excitement.  
  
Then Baldy abruptly changed direction. Duo tensed, suddenly preparing to fight as his large companion turned into the dark alley next to the building. Of course, with one beefy arm around his neck in a suddenly very tight grip, and the other ham-like fist squeezing his manhood with obvious threat, Duo really didn't have much room to maneuver.  
  
_Shit. Oz. They've found me_ , he thought frantically.  
  
Then Baldy came to a halt and a few other men stepped out of the shadows. Two wore the same ragged denim and leather as Duo's captor, but the last... The last wore what looked like an almost-expensive suit.  
  
_Oh, fuck_ , Duo thought weakly, feeling the fight drain from his body and his knees turn to rubber.  
  
It wasn't Oz. It was way worse.  
  
It was a small time pimp.  
  
The man in the suit stalked forward, grabbing Duo's chin in his hand and turning the boy's face into what little light fell into the alley from a nearby apartment window. Duo knew better than to bother yelling for help. Whoever was in the apartment wasn't likely to put their own health in danger for a whore getting beat on by a pimp.  
  
He knew that far too well.  
  
"Well, well, well, what have we here? Ain't you a pretty little thing," the pimp crooned in a light tenor. Duo fought the urge to swear or spit at the man. Normally, his natural reaction to intimidation was cockiness and bravado, but right now, his four friends were counting on him for their very survival. If there was a way to get out of this encounter in good enough shape to still be helpful to them, Duo was willing to sacrifice his pride.  
  
The pimp was a pasty-skinned man, probably only about ten years older than Duo. He was beyond slender, that particular excessive skinniness that was the result of a fast metabolism rather than diet and exercise. His hand on Duo's chin was cool even in the heat, and bony enough to hurt. The suit hung off the tall body like it was on a clotheshanger. The man was just not physically intimidating.  
  
That was bad.  
  
The ones who didn't look tough had to prove they were.  
  
Duo tried to put some of his very real fear into his eyes, hoping the man would take him for an amateur and decide he was easily cowed.  
  
But Duo Maxwell was not a very good liar.  
  
"You know you been poaching on my territory, boy?" the pimp demanded, fingers pinching harder on Duo's jaw.  
  
"N-nobody said nothing," Duo managed apologetically.  
  
"Nobody said nothing? Shit, you new to the neighborhood, slut?" the pimp asked, sounding amused at his naivete.  
  
_Amused is good. I can work with amused_ , Duo thought desperately. "Y-yes, sir," he answered, keeping his voice respectful.  
  
"Sir? Sir?" The pimp chuckled. "Oh, I like that, pretty boy. That's real nice. But if you new around here, you gotta learn the local rules," the man continued, his amusement fading into a cruel anticipation.  
  
_Shit._

"Rules... sir?" Duo asked weakly, still hoping to stay on the man's ‘good' side. He knew what was coming. He'd done his research. The small gang he and Wufei had seen from the kitchen that first day had been just bursting with information about the ins and outs of the local skin trade. This was not an area that welcomed freelancers. You did not operate without a pimp. But when he'd gone a few days without drawing attention, Duo had begun to hope that he could just slip through the cracks. He didn't plan to be here long, and maybe he'd be gone before anyone decided they wanted a piece of his action.  
  
Apparently, his luck had run out.  
  
"My name is Randall, boy. You hearda me?" the pimp demanded.  
  
Duo bit his lip, wondering what to do. No matter what he said, he was in trouble. If he admitted to knowing who the man was, then he admitted he'd known the rules and broken them. But if he claimed ignorance, it was a blow to Randall's ego, and from talking to the locals, Duo knew that was a bad mistake too.  
  
He was trapped. Either way, he was not getting out of this unharmed.  
  
He took a deep breath, and made his choice, hoping like hell it was the right one.  
  
"No, sir, I haven't," he murmured softly.  
  
A psychotic gleam appeared in Randall's dark brown eyes, and Duo realized with a sinking feeling that he'd made the wrong choice.  
  
"Well, pretty boy, I promise you, when me and my boys is done, you ain't never gonna forget me," Randall swore, his fingers clenching ever tighter.  
  
Duo closed his eyes as he felt more rough hands on him, pulling his arms and legs into a spread-eagled position. His back hit cool metal, and from the smell he knew he was pinned against a dumpster. He was mentally prepared for the fist that impacted with his unprotected stomach, but he'd been expecting Randall to do the hitting personally. As the air was driven forcefully from his lungs and his diaphragm locked, leaving him unable to draw breath for a long, terrifying moment, Duo realized that Randall was smart enough to know he just couldn't hit that hard.  
  
But Randall didn't seem the type to let his ‘boys' have all the fun. Duo's eyes flew open in pure terror as he recalled a fragment of warning he'd received.  
  
_"... and if you hook up with a pimp, stay clear of Randall, man. He's just scum, and his girls and boys are messed up. He likes to feel like a big man, ya know? Likes to be in control. Ain't a one of his whores not a junkie."_

Meaty fists continued to pummel him, but Duo ignored the pain, his mind frozen in stark terror.  
  
Randall was watching him from a few feet away. Randall had a nasty smile on his too-thin face.  
  
And Randall had a big, shiny needle in his hand.  
  
"Oh shit no fuck please I'll do anything you want man just don't oh god please," Duo babbled incoherently, screaming now not in hope of summoning aid, but simply because he couldn't _not_ scream, not when Randall was walking forward and the needle was coming closer and he couldn't _move_ his fucking _arm_ two of the bastards were pinning him and he _couldn't_ _move_ and Randall was ­  
  
The needle slid into his pale skin with an incongruously small prick, and Duo screamed, tears of fury and horror pouring down his cheeks.  
  
They released him and he slumped to the ground, wrapping his arms around his battered stomach. His ribs were sore, and some might be cracked or even broken... but he didn't care. It didn't matter.  
  
He was in for far worse pain than that.  
  
He curled into a tighter ball, hitching sobs shuddering through his entire slender frame as he lay on the damp, warm pavement. His hair was probably picking up all manner of disgusting debris, and the metallic tang of blood in his mouth reminded him that he'd taken at least one hit to the face, but he didn't care.  
  
He could already feel the soothing calm spreading through his mind. Like the world was being wrapped in silk, soft and gentle...   
  
It terrified him. Because it felt so damn good. After running and fighting and killing and screwing, the peace... It felt like coming home.  
  
Duo whimpered miserably on the ground.  
  
Randall knelt beside him, endangering his cheap suit. "See? You won't forget me, will you, boy? In fact, I bet you'll come crawling to me in a couple days," Randall crooned, stick-like fingers running down Duo's tear-dampened cheek in a mockery of a caress.  
  
Duo whimpered again. Randall laughed and walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero greeted Duo at the door with a gun in the face.  
  
Standard operating procedure.  
  
Duo didn't greet him, or even make some wise-ass remark. He merely pushed past the Japanese boy and into the apartment, arms crossed over his chest and gripping his elbows tightly, like he was cold. He even seemed to be shivering slightly, despite the fact that the heat wave had not yet broken. It was easily seventy degrees in the apartment already.  
  
Not standard procedure. Heero frowned and turned to stare after his roommate.  
  
The four of them had fallen into a pattern over the past few days. Duo went out at night and did...whatever it was he did to get money. One of them kept watch during the night while the others slept, although Heero slept very little and not well with Duo not in the room. It was different from when they were on separate missions. Then, in some small way, Heero always felt he knew what Duo was doing. Now he had no idea, and it bothered him.  
  
So it was always Heero who met Duo at the door in the morning, his gun batted aside with a tired grin. Then Duo would usually stumble to the kitchen and eat something, then into their bedroom and pass out for ten to twelve hours while Heero, Wufei and Quatre puttered around, tending to Trowa and trying not to kill each other. Quatre washed Duo's clothes while he slept. Finally, sometime in the evening, Duo would wake, eat again, and take a long shower in the small bathroom. Then he'd dress in the spandex and tee shirt he'd worn every night, and leave, never telling anyone where he was going or what he was doing. But he inevitably returned, with food and/or supplies, and money. And the cycle repeated.  
  
Duo paused just inside the apartment, his back to Heero, and murmured in surprise, "Trowa... "  
  
"Ohayo, Duo," Trowa replied solemnly. The tall pilot managed a small smile for his astonished comrade. "I hear I have you to thank for providing the necessary supplies to save my life," Trowa continued softly. Duo just stared at the other boy. Trowa still looked pale and weak, but he was awake and talking, and propped into a sitting position on the couch. He didn't look completely healthy, but he was obviously much better than he had been.  
  
Finally, Duo's paralysis seemed to wear off, and a wide smile blossomed across his face. "Aw, think nothing of it, T-man! You would have done the same if you weren't unconscious and feverish," he said happily, some of the tension easing from his slender body as he walked slowly over to kneel beside Trowa.  
  
Heero noted that Duo did not uncross his arms. He simply leaned them against the sofa. Strange.  
  
"Nonetheless, I thank you," Trowa reiterated softly. Duo peered intently at him, apparently checking for some sign of healing that only he understood, but eventually he seemed satisfied, and pushed himself to his feet, shaking his head in amazement. Heero noticed Trowa's slight frown of confusion as the green-eyed boy met Duo's assessing gaze.  
  
Duo still hadn't uncrossed his arms.  
  
"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better. Personally, I feel like shit," Duo admitted, and Heero abruptly noticed the darkened shadow beneath the long bangs on Duo's temple. He walked over and grabbed Duo's shoulder, pushing the hair out of the way with a gesture that probably looked rough, but was actually quite gentle.  
  
Duo tried to jerk away, but subsided when he remembered this was Heero hanging onto him. Small chance of escaping that grip.  
  
Heero peered closely at the bruise on Duo's temple, and the other one below his cheekbone that shadows had concealed.  
  
"Who hit you?" he demanded.  
  
"It's not important," Duo said flatly, and the very lack of emotion in his tone made Heero step back in uncertainty, releasing Duo's shoulder. He frowned.  
  
"Not important?" he spat angrily. "You're a Gundam pilot. Anyone good enough to hit you in a fight is certainly important."  
  
Duo's head jerked slightly, like he wanted to throw Heero some kind of look, but he didn't. Scowling, Heero grabbed the pointed chin in his callused hand and forced Duo to look at him.  
  
The wide violet eyes quickly turned down and to the side, but not quite quickly enough. Heero had already seen the telltale contraction of the pupils. It was hard to miss; Duo's eyes were like wide pools of indigo with pinpricks of black floating in them.  
  
"Look at me," Heero commanded harshly, wanting to be certain of what he had seen. He couldn't believe that Duo would do something so stupid, would risk all their lives...   
  
Duo drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and slowly turned his gaze back to Heero. Trowa wore a little frown of confusion at their strange interaction, but Heero ignored it.  
  
Duo's eyes looked just as he had thought they did.  
  
Not sure if anger or fear fueled the roughness of his actions, Heero grabbed Duo's lower arms hard enough to bruise and tore the boy's hands from his elbows, pulling Duo's arms out straight and twisting them to expose the underside.  
  
The small puncture itself wasn't visible, of course, but the tell tale bruise in the crook of Duo's left arm was a glaring imperfection against the alabaster skin. Heero's hands tightened on Duo's arms until he could feel the bones grating together. Duo whimpered slightly.  
  
Heero glanced at his partner's face to see Duo staring, almost mesmerized, at the bruise. Duo's eyes seemed unfocused, although that was a difficult call to make, considering the state of his pupils.  
  
"Fucking junkie," Heero growled angrily. Duo's head jerked up, meeting his furious glare with wide and wounded eyes.  
  
"No," he whispered almost desperately. Heero wondered if he were trying to convince his friend or himself.  
  
"What was it, then? Free flu shot?" Heero demanded brusquely, releasing Duo's arms with a little shove that sent the longhaired boy stumbling backwards against the coffee table.  
  
"It... it's not what you think," Duo murmured, right hand unconsciously scrubbing at the opposite elbow, as if he wanted to rub the mark away.  
  
"Then what the hell is it?" Heero snapped. He was angry. Really, truly angry. Because he couldn't be afraid. Heero Yuy could not be terrified by a small needle bruise and a pair of contracted pupils.  
  
Duo frowned, tears shimmering in the confused eyes, then he muttered softly, "Well, okay, I guess it is what you think, but... "  
  
Heero felt a flash of hot rage course through him at the admission. Duo was staring determinedly at his own feet, not meeting Heero's angry gaze. "But what?" he growled, fists trembling at his sides. _How could you do this, why would you do this, how could I let this happen?_ his mind screamed over and over. He wasn't sure if he wanted to pound Duo into the ground, or sweep him up in his arms and promise everything would be all right, make him promise never to do something so stupid and dangerous again...   
  
Duo's head snapped up at the anger in Heero's voice, a spark of rebellion flaring in the narrowed eyes. His own fists clenched, and his posture shifted from a defensive cringe to an angry crouch. Heero recognized the smooth sliding and tensing of muscles as Duo prepared to pounce like a cat.  
  
They glared at each other like that for a minute, the aura of barely restrained violence keeping poor Trowa frozen on the couch.  
  
"I don't have to take this shit," Duo finally declared in a harsh whisper _. Damn you, Heero, you won't even listen to what I have to say, will you? You won't even give me the benefit of the doubt! You must really think I'm scum. Well... fine. Maybe I am. Maybe that's all I've really ever been._ A tight, twisted grin appeared on his face, and he added sarcastically, "Sorry about this, Heero, but all work and no play makes Duo a dull boy, ya know?" He snickered at his own joke.  
  
"You're endangering the mission," Heero informed him coldly.  
  
Duo's anger flared at this statement. "That's right, I am!" he snapped. "And Heaven forbid the precious fucking mission be endangered!" By this point, the braided boy was yelling, and Wufei and Quatre had both appeared at the doorway of their bedroom. Heero actually took a half-step back in the face of Duo's anger, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach accompanying the thought that this situation was about to fly completely out of hand.  
  
"You know, since I'm such a terrible danger to you all, maybe it would be best if I just left," Duo continued, his voice suddenly conversational, but with such an undercurrent of anger that Quatre cringed. Heero opened his mouth to protest, not sure what he would say, but Duo held up a hand to forestall his words. "Oh, don't worry, Heero, I know my responsibilities. One of you can go shopping, but I'll bring you your damn money." He paused and pulled a wad of crumpled bills from the spandex shorts, throwing it down on the coffee table. "There you go, Heero. Everybody can have their fucking pound of flesh and the world's a goddamn happy place," Duo muttered bitterly, abruptly shoving past Heero and towards the door.  
  
Heero grabbed his arm as he walked past, and Duo spun, his free arm twisting up to the base of his neck and then forward to lay his knife against Heero's throat in one smooth, practiced motion almost too fast for the eye to follow.  
  
"What?" he growled, his features so tightened and distorted by anger that he almost looked like a different person.  
  
"You... you don't have to... " Heero hesitated, uncertain of what he wanted to say, and more than a little unnerved by the coldness of Duo's eyes as he held the knife blade to Heero's throat.  
  
Duo gave a harsh bark of laughter, then pulled the blade away and twisted out of Heero's grip. Before Heero could say another word, he was out the door. A moment later, Heero got a grip on himself and ran out the door after him, but Duo had already vanished. Heero cursed under his breath, knowing that he'd never catch up to Duo on the street.  
  
+  
  
Duo paused just outside the apartment building, half hoping that Heero or Quatre or even Wufei would come after him... But no one did.  
  
_Of course not. What did you expect, idiot?_ he scolded himself. With a heavy sigh, he pushed away from the building, shuffling aimlessly down the sidewalk.  
  
He was hungry. He was tired. And he wanted a fix so goddamn bad ­  
  
_Fucking junkie._

Duo cursed harshly under his breath, rubbing at the needle mark with his hand. The bruise ached under the pressure, and the arm pressing against his stomach produced a whole other range of agony from the bruises he knew were there.  
  
He was really hungry. After the initial euphoria of the drug had worn off, he'd been sick for hours, heaving until he couldn't even bring up bile. His mouth still had the disgusting acid aftertaste, and now he couldn't even brush his teeth...   
  
Duo paused in his aimless walking, slumping against a random building in the early morning sunlight. His eyes were starting to focus a little better, so hopefully the contraction of his pupils was becoming less noticeable. He should have thought about that, should have stayed out until later when he might have been able to fool Heero, when the signs weren't so obvious...   
  
But he was scared. No, terrified was a better word. He might have grown up on the streets, but that didn't mean he _liked_ getting jumped in the alley, and he sure as hell didn't like getting pumped full of heroin against his will...   
  
_Yeah, I only like it when it's my idea_ , he thought scornfully. _Fucking junkie, huh, Heero? It might not have been on purpose this time, but it's still the truth..._

_But you still could have listened to my side of the story..._

Duo frowned and shook his head, trying to dismiss his thoughts. He'd told Heero about his history with drugs a few months back, on some night when he'd been too drunk to control his mouth and willing to talk about anything, since talking prevented him from thinking about doing other, more dangerous things with his mouth... Always a danger around Heero. So it made sense that Heero wouldn't trust him, would think the worst. Only... It hadn't been his fault. He hadn't asked for it, hadn't wanted it...   
  
_But damn, do I want it now._

Trying to ignore that thought, Duo shuffled into the small diner at the end of the block, across from the bar. He smirked humorlessly at the twenty he'd managed to palm from the wad of bills he'd tossed on the table. _Some skills you never lose. Like falling off a bicycle._

He slumped against the cracked Formica counter and ordered eggs and pancakes, hoping the nausea would hold off long enough for him to digest some of the food. He knew he was in for at least one more bad spell before the drug worked itself completely out of his system. The craving for it would last a while longer, but by tonight...   
  
Shit. Tonight.  
  
Would Randall really back off and wait for Duo to come to him? Convenient, but unlikely. Probably the pimp would be out looking for him tonight, wanting to make sure of his claim before somebody else tried to ‘hire' him. And even if Randall didn't come, now the others would be alerted to his presence. Randall had brought him to public attention, and the other local pimps would be trying their own recruiting methods.  
  
Maybe he could hook up with one of the others? Somebody less objectionable? Duo sighed, chewing miserably on his pancake. No, from what he'd heard, and he trusted his sources, he was stuck between a rock and several uncomfortable hard places.  
  
So what could he do? He still had to get the guys their money...   
  
Duo sighed, playing with the lake of syrup left behind on his empty plate. He didn't really have much choice. He'd have to try a different spot, and hope that threw everybody off for a few days. By then, he should be safe from himself at least where the drugs were concerned, and maybe he could think of something else to do, or some other way to get money... Hell, Trowa was awake. Maybe they could leave this godforsaken hellhole in a couple days.  
  
No. Unlikely. Trowa was awake, but still badly injured, and still weak. The only other way he could think of to get cash was to steal it, and he'd already discarded that idea as too risky to the group as a whole. _Risky to me is a different story._

Well. He would find a new corner for tonight at least. After that... he'd just have to improvise. _Just like the good old days_ , he thought with a twisted grin.  
  
He tossed a few coins on the counter as a tip, ignoring the waitress's snort of irritation, and stumbled out into the growing heat of the day. Right now, all he wanted was sleep. He headed for the building he'd stashed his clothes in as the sun beat down like a sledgehammer, and pretended it was the heat that bent his shoulders in defeat.  
  
+  
  
Three pairs of worried eyes rested on Heero as he methodically disassembled and cleaned his gun.  
  
Immediately after Duo's little scene, Heero had retreated to their bedroom for several hours. He supposed the others might have wondered what he was doing in there.  
  
He was sitting.  
  
That was all.  
  
He sat in the single uncomfortable wooden chair, and he stared at the empty, neatly made bed, and he waited for the universe to realize it had experienced a program glitch. Certainly, once the error was detected, it would be rectified, and Duo would appear, sleeping quietly in the bed, as he had been every day.  
  
That was the way things were supposed to be.  
  
Surely, if he waited long enough, that was the way things _would_ be.  
  
A part of him urged clinically, _Accept it. Deal with it._

He didn't want to.  
  
Just this once, Heero Yuy wanted to rant and rave against reality, against circumstances beyond his control and understanding.  
  
Just this once, he wanted _reality_ to conform, to reconfigure itself, to _his_ desires. To his wants.  
  
To his needs.  
  
_Duo... I need you here._

The thought had fallen into the dark stillness of his mind like a heavy stone in a quiet pool, setting the flat surface into thousands of random ripples.  
  
He couldn't stand to stay in the quiet, stifling little room where Duo _wasn't_ , so he had gone out to the living room. And because he couldn't just do nothing anymore, he pulled out his gun and let his hands perform the thoughtless, routine task. It was another way of not thinking.  
  
But eventually, his repetitive, focused behavior had begun to unnerve the others, and they had slowly congregated in the small, stuffy room.  
  
He wished the heat would break.  
  
He began reassembling his gun, ramming the parts together with more than necessary force. He noticed Quatre twitch slightly as one piece slid home with a loud clank, and he could no longer ignore his audience.  
  
Was there no peace to be had for him today?  
  
_No_ , his mind whispered flatly. _No peace for you in the absence of incessant chattering, in a vacuum of cheerful smiles, in the darkness unlit by bright violet eyes..._

He rammed another piece of the gun back in place.  
  
"He's been clean for two years," he heard himself commenting in his usual cold monotone.  
  
Clack.  
  
"He told me once that there was no way he'd ever go back, because withdrawal was the closest he'd ever come to Hell."  
  
Snap.  
  
"And he'd had some fairly hellish experiences to compare it to."  
  
Clank.  
  
"I don't like things that make no sense. This makes no sense."  
  
Snick.  
  
"I should have shot him."  
  
Snap.  
  
"That doesn't make any sense either. That I didn't."  
  
Clunk. The gun lay on the table before him, perfectly rebuilt. He stared at it.  
  
"I should have."  
  
"You didn't, though," a quiet voice interrupted his thoughts, and Heero glanced up in surprise at Trowa. He exchanged a long stare with the green-eyed boy. "Why didn't you?" Trowa finally asked.  
  
Heero frowned and looked down at his gun again. He picked it up, turning it in his hands as though considering repeating his endless cleaning ritual.  
  
"Why didn't you?" Trowa repeated a bit more firmly.  
  
Now it was a challenge. Heero frowned at the gun.  
  
"Because... " _Because he looked so fragile and lost and scared, before he got angry. Because he's so damn beautiful that the thought of hurting him makes me sick inside. Because he's already experienced so much pain and he deserves something better. Because I can't imagine facing another day if I knew I'd never see him again._

"Because... I didn't want to," he finally replied in a harsh whisper. He met Trowa's knowing green gaze, and realized that the tall, quiet pilot understood more than he let on.  
  
"Do you suppose it might help him to know that?" Trowa asked calmly, and something in his eyes told Heero that the tall boy wasn't referring to the "I didn't want to" comment.  
  
Heero stared flatly at Trowa for a long time as he turned this notion over and over in his mind. Tell Duo the truth? Reveal the things he'd kept hidden? Show his weakness to the world?  
  
Hold a hand out in the dark, not knowing if Duo would reach back to him?  
  
What a terrible, horrifying risk.  
  
Another challenge.  
  
Heero's eyes narrowed slightly, and he rose to his feet in one smooth, economical motion. He slid his gun into the waistband of his shorts, cool metal pressing against the damp, hot skin of his lower back.  
  
"I'll be back," he muttered, striding quickly to the door.  
  
No one argued.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Duo let out a yelp as his head slammed against the brick wall. He didn't expect all the noise he was making to bring help, but he didn't see any reason to suffer in silence, either.  
  
The night had started out okay, he'd even turned a few quick tricks in his new spot, but then Baldy had shown up again.  
  
Duo had run this time.  
  
Unfortunately, Randall's goons knew the area better than he did, and they weren't all as out of shape as Baldy. They'd cornered him in this alley, not far from the apartment his friends were holed up in, and they'd been amusing themselves beating the crap out of him until Baldy returned with Randall.  
  
Duo was doing his best to fight back, using every dirty trick he knew to escape. Because he knew what was coming, and he just couldn't handle it.  
  
_Thought I was stronger than this, but man... One more day like today, and I **would** go crawling to that bastard... _  
  
It was a very lowering experience to realize just how easily he could fall back under the sway of heroin. After all the pain and misery he'd gone through getting off it after he joined up with the Sweepers...   
  
A fist slammed into his already-bruised stomach and Duo released a loud stream of pained curses at the top of his lungs. His body involuntarily attempted to curl inwards to protect his midsection, but the goons holding him were strong enough and holding him so tightly that his feet left the ground instead of his body sagging downwards.  
  
Some cold, distant portion of his brain registered dimly that that meant they weren't pinning his legs.  
  
"Well, well, well. We meet again, eh, pretty boy?" Randall crooned from a few feet away. Duo instantly froze, going limp in his captors' grip as he turned to glare at the smug pimp. Baldy stood beside his boss, puffing slightly from the short hike.  
  
Duo snarled at Randall, which made the pimp laugh and take a few steps closer.  
  
_Just a little closer, you bastard... I know you're gonna come closer..._  
  
"Boy, you just got one sour disposition tonight, doncha?" Randall asked, sounding amused. He held up one thin hand, and a hypodermic needle gleamed dully in the light from a nearby street lamp. Duo's eyes instantly fastened on the tip of the needle, mesmerized, as Randall squeezed a few drops of the clear liquid out to slide down the metal tip.  
  
"Hold him," Randall muttered, all business now as he stepped forward, reaching for the boy's pinned arm.  
  
Duo's booted foot caught him neatly under the chin, and he flew backwards in a fountain of blood and spit.  
  
This distracted the two goons holding the American for a crucial few seconds, and he managed to twist himself free of their loosened grips, stumbling across the alley to the far wall, quickly pulling the concealed knife from his hair. They'd been on top of him too fast when they'd cornered him, but now he had some room to maneuver.  
  
Of course, they'd also kind of beaten the crap out of him, and he'd had better days in general, but he was at least going to go down fighting.  
  
He held the knife in front of him and crouched defensively against the still-warm bricks.  
  
Randall was sitting on the ground, cradling his jaw in his bony fingers and swearing. His voice sounded thick and indistinct, and Duo hoped he'd fractured the bastard's jaw.  
  
"Fu'in cuh tha' bish!" Randall slurred at his cronies, and the three large men formed up in a half circle in front of Duo, cracking their knuckles and flexing their muscles.  
  
_Oh, for Christ's sake, what is this, some cheesy crime drama?_ Duo thought exasperatedly. _Are they going to start spouting bad dialogue next? I don't think I'm up to that. Better nip it in the bud._  
  
Without warning, he darted forward, straight at Baldy, who was in the middle. As soon as he moved, he knew he'd made a mistake, let his anger at the man who'd trapped him the night before guide his attack instead of sensibly taking out the goon closest to the street so he could run again.  
  
_Too late now. At least I'll get one of them._  
  
The sharp blade drove deeply into the flesh of Baldy's neck as Duo stabbed it straight in, then he yanked his arm to the side and the knife sliced outward, a spurt of bright arterial blood following and drenching the goon unfortunate enough to be on Baldy's left. Duo grinned in manic glee, knowing from the pumping fountain of blood that Baldy weakly tried to block with his hands that he'd severed something vital. Baldy wasn't long for this world.  
  
Even as this thought crossed Duo's mind, though, the other two goons surged forward before he could catch his balance, and grabbed his arms again. He shrieked in fury and rage, but they just slammed him against the wall, the one who held his knife arm nearly breaking his wrist with the impact. The blade fell from nerveless fingers. Having learned from their earlier mistake, the two goons each braced one of his legs with one of their own. Duo squirmed mightily, but they weren't taking any chances with him now, and he could feel their fingers digging hard enough to bruise into his skin.  
  
After a moment, he suddenly stopped struggling and hung limply in the arms of the large men. He stared down at Baldy, whose glazed eyes stared blindly up at the sky from where he lay in a puddle of dark blood. He was on his back, and his ruined throat was clearly visible. Duo stared down at the dead man for a second, and then he let a darkly amused laugh escape his throat. He let it grow and grow, feeding all his terror and fury into it until it bounced off the buildings, creating strange and eerie echoes.  
  
It was an unsettling sound, he knew. Unnerving. It made his captors fidget slightly, their grips loosening a bit as they wondered if they really wanted to be touching him.  
  
Their grips loosened... but not enough.  
  
He couldn't break free again.  
  
Randall struggled to his feet and stumbled over, pausing to stare down at the messy corpse of Baldy.  
  
"Better kill me," Duo advised softly. The pimp looked up at him, still holding his jaw in his hands, dark eyes flat and cold. "Better kill me, or I'll come after you, Randall baby... Cut you up... Make you bleed... Make you scream... "  
  
"You one crazy muthafucka," Randall observed calmly. Then a small, tight smile appeared on the cadaverous face. "I think I like you," he added.  
  
Duo fought a wave of nausea at the demented light in Randall's dark eyes. _Oh shit, did I fucking turn him on?_  
  
"You ain't gonna do shit to me, boy," Randall informed him, the smile growing wider as his voice lost some of the thickness. Apparently his jaw wasn't broken. He paused and spat a mouthful of blood onto the pavement. A bloody tooth bounced and skittered in the discharge. Randall stared at it for a moment, then turned back to Duo with a positively psychotic gleam in his eyes and a wide, bloody smile spreading his swelling lips.  
  
"I'm gonna own you," the pimp whispered harshly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fresh needle, still wrapped in its protective plastic seal, and a small baggie of white powder.  
  
"I'll be with you in a minute," he promised darkly, gingerly pulling his other hand away from his chin. Blood and spittle leaked from one corner of his mouth, but he didn't seem to notice as he pulled out a lighter and a metal spoon, slipping the needle back in his pocket for a moment.  
  
Duo stared at the all-too-familiar preparations.  
  
And he started to scream.  
  
+  
  
Heero was trudging slowly up the block toward the safe house, having given up all hope of locating Duo, when the screaming started. His head snapped up immediately and he pulled his gun from his shorts, clicking the safety off, just in case he needed to shoot somebody in a hurry.  
  
The screaming didn't stop after a few seconds, and Heero pinpointed the source of the sound as the alley two buildings further up the street. He frowned, wondering if he ought to just ignore whatever was going on, and wait until things were quiet before going back to the apartment. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't his problem, and they weren't supposed to do anything to draw attention to themselves.  
  
But...   
  
But somewhere out in the city, Duo was alone, and possibly stoned or even dead, because Heero had failed to locate him. He had _failed_. And that was an open, aching wound right now.  
  
So maybe he could do right by somebody tonight.  
  
Firming his resolve, Heero slipped silently to the corner of the alley, cautiously peering around the edge of one abandoned tenement. The scene he saw before him fanned the banked flames of rage within him.  
  
Two big, over-muscled men held a much smaller figure, dressed in a whore's skintight, gaudy clothing, braced against a brick wall. The screaming came from the... girl? Boy? It was hard to tell the figure's gender from the end of the alley, especially with a long curtain of dark hair tumbling down the front of the person's body. A moment after Heero arrived, the screaming changed to loud, inventive cursing. There was a heavy-set body on the ground, and Heero wondered if that was an earlier victim, or if the captive had fought back.  
  
A third man, this one dressed in an ill-fitting inexpensive suit of the type Duo referred to as 'pimp-chic' was walking slowly towards the screaming prisoner. The thin man held something in one bony hand. Heero squinted, trying to make it out. The man held it forward, toward the captive, waving it in front of the person's face, as though taunting him or her.  
  
Heero's breath caught in his throat.  
  
It was a needle.  
  
He acted without thought. The gun was raised, aimed, and fired before he even realized his intention. The thin man's head exploded in a shower of blood and skull fragments, the body slowly crumpling to the dirty pavement.  
  
The yelling abruptly cut off, and all three figures left standing stared in shock for a moment at the fallen man.  
  
Then the captive suddenly sagged toward the ground, and Heero wondered if... he? she? - _Fuck that, until I know, I'm going with 'it'_ _\--_ had fainted. But instead of just hanging there, the figure pulled loose of the two large men and rolled away from them. Heero smirked. It was smart, he'd give it that. It had used its captors' distraction to get loose.  
  
Such ingenuity ought to be rewarded.  
  
Heero took careful aim this time, and with two quick shots, finished off the goons who were still in shock from their boss's death. They slid down the wall, leaving dark, wet smears behind them, and Heero moved cautiously into the alley. He didn't know what he'd just rescued, but he knew it was desperate, and he'd seen enough to be cautious.  
  
He deliberately scuffed his shoes against the concrete so whoever it was would know he was coming.  
  
+  
  
Duo had stared in amazement as Randall's head abruptly exploded. His mind had immediately registered that the man had been shot. He must have missed the sound of the gun firing what with all the hysterical yelling going on.  
  
That thought made him suddenly stop yelling.  
  
He then realized that the two men holding him, probably not the shining intellectual lights of the community, were staring in surprise and confusion at Randall's corpse.  
  
Fighting down a giggle at his unbelievable luck, Duo suddenly went limp in their arms, and the unexpected dead weight let him slip from his captors' shock-loosened grips. He hit the ground and just rolled away, getting clear of the men in case they decided to grab him again, or in case his mysterious savior decided to shoot them, too.  
  
Two shots rang through the alley, and the sound of heavy bodies sliding to the ground followed.  
  
_Okay, one set of bad guys down, but who the hell is doing the shooting?_ Duo wondered. Chances were, it wasn't a knight in shining armor, come to rescue him. Probably a rival pimp, or something equally unpleasant.  
  
_Maybe if I lay still enough, they'll think I'm dead, too, and leave me alone_ , he thought whimsically. He choked back a hopeless laugh. He didn't really have a choice. After the beating he'd just taken, he didn't think he could crawl, much less stand up and run away.  
  
The scuff of shoes against pavement alerted him to the approach of the shooter, and Duo froze in a huddled little ball. His face was turned to the side, and Randall's single remaining glazed eye was in his field of vision. The pimp's body was a few feet away, one arm stretched out towards Duo in a twisted pantomime of supplication. The needle had rolled out of the limp fingers and lay on the concrete not too far from his own outstretched hand.  
  
Duo watched in horror as his hand, apparently of its own volition, twitched and scrabbled weakly toward the needle. He frowned, and with a supreme effort of will, forced the hand to go limp again.  
  
The shoes were getting closer. Duo stared nervously out through a veil of bloody hair that covered his face and half his body. Finally, the shoes came into his line of vision, stepping carefully around the puddle of blood and brains that Randall's demise had left on the concrete.  
  
The shoes were battered yellow hightop sneakers. He knew every scuff mark and crease on those ugly, clunky, ever-so-fucking-efficient shoes like the back of his own hand. Duo almost sobbed in relief.  
  
Instead, he gingerly propped himself on one elbow and drew aside the stringy, dirty fall of hair with the other hand to peer up at his stone-faced savior.  
  
"H-Heero?" he murmured questioningly. Dark blue eyes locked onto his bleary gaze, and after a moment, he saw them widen in shocked recognition.  
  
+  
  
Heero moved slowly around the body of the suspected pimp, halting a few feet from what he could now tell was a slender young man, curled on his side and half-covered by bloody, tangled hair. _Didn't think there could be two people in the world with that much hair_ , Heero mused to himself, even as he wondered if the boy was unconscious. He was certainly still enough, but something about the way he lay there, a certain tension in the body told him the boy was awake, and nervous.  
  
Just as Heero was wondering if he should say something or just leave, the boy suddenly raised himself up on one elbow and pulled the dirty hair aside to reveal an exotically made-up face.  
  
Electric purple shadow on upper and lower lids emphasized the boy's brilliant violet eyes, although mascara from the long lashes had run in black streaks down the softly curved cheeks. The cheekbones, eyebrows and the tip of the delicately pointed chin were accented with iridescent glitter, and the full lips were tinted a dark red-violet. The wine colored lipstick had been smudged on one side, looking like a smear of blood at the corner of the boy's mouth. Despite the smears and smudges, the boy's face retained an exotic, elfin beauty.  
  
Heero noted all these features, but felt his gaze drawn quickly back to the boy's eyes.  
  
_Violet eyes... just like..._  
  
"H-Heero?" the boy whispered uncertainly, and it was Duo's soft, husky voice. Duo's bright violet eyes that watched him with wary hope. Duo's tongue that darted out nervously to lick the painted lips...   
  
"Duo?" he whispered in surprise and confusion. A weak smile played around the edges of the full lips, but the violet eyes remained nervous.  
  
He hadn't failed. He'd found Duo after all.  
  
And now he had not the faintest idea what to do.  
  
Heero's eyes slipped away from Duo's gaze to the ground at his feet, and he saw the needle lying there.  
  
The needle.  
  
Suddenly, he remembered the tableau he'd seen from the end of the alley. He glanced from the dead man to Duo to the needle.  
  
_He was... threatening you with this... That's what you were trying to tell me this morning, trying to explain, and I wouldn't listen..._  
  
Heero brought his heel down with a very satisfactory crunch on the plastic casing of the needle. Duo flinched ever so slightly, but then just continued to stare at Heero.  
  
Heero turned back to his friend, and suddenly crouched down beside him, wrapping his arms around his bent knees. Duo watched him, obviously confused by his actions.  
  
"Heero? What are you doing here?" Duo managed weakly.  
  
Heero frowned, dropping his eyes once more to the concrete. It was easier than meeting that violet gaze.  
  
"Duo... " he began softly, not quite knowing what he wanted to say, but knowing that he had to say something. Mostly because Duo needed to hear it, but also because... he needed to say it.  
  
Walking around today, looking for Duo, he'd come to accept that he wanted more from this boy than simple friendship. He wasn't exactly certain what that 'more' could be, but he rather suspected that Duo might know. And Heero needed to know if he stood any chance in hell of ever getting what he wanted.  
  
He licked his own lips nervously, and determinedly met Duo's curious eyes again. "Duo," he said again, more firmly. "The things I said this morning _\--_ "  
  
"Heero, I understand why you _\--_ " Duo began wearily, but Heero, greatly daring, placed a gentle finger against the painted lips, stilling them instantly. Duo's eyes went a little wider at the unexpected touch.  
  
"Just listen for a second. The things I said... I was wrong to say them. I shouldn't have jumped to the conclusions I did. You tried to explain what had happened, but I wouldn't let you. I don't blame you for being angry. I should know you better by now than to believe you'd... do something like that, just on a whim. I should've listened. I... I'm sorry," he finished weakly, not sure what else to say, and hoping he'd gotten his point across.  
  
The soft shimmering of tears in Duo's eyes made him worry that he hadn't.  
  
"Duo? Daijobu desu ka?" he asked nervously, the finger that had silenced the braided boy sliding away from the mouth, his other fingers joining it to gently caress the smooth cheek.  
  
Duo's eyes slid shut, a few tears squeezing out, but there was a slight smile on his face, and he pressed his cheek into Heero's hand like a cat. "Daijobu," he murmured. After a moment, though, the eyes slid open again, still filled with confusion. "But... why are you out here?" Duo asked again.  
  
Heero frowned at the question. "To tell you that," he said flatly.  
  
Duo stared at him incredulously. "Heero Yuy," he said with slow deliberation. "Do you mean to tell me that you've been wandering around the city, endangering the mission, looking for me, just to tell me you were sorry for yelling at me?"  
  
Heero blinked and cocked his head to the side, considering the question. "Yes," he finally admitted.  
  
Duo burst out in loud, genuine laughter. Heero felt a small smile tugging at his own lips. Duo could be very contagious that way.  
  
The American struggled to sit up, and Heero slipped an arm around his still-shaking shoulders to support him. Duo leaned back against his arm and shook his head, smiling fondly at Heero. "Just when I think I've got you all figured out," he murmured.  
  
Heero grunted. Then he frowned slightly. "So... anyway... about what I said... do you?" he asked warily. Duo frowned back at him, confused by the question.  
  
"Do I what?" he asked.  
  
"Do you... forgive me?" Heero managed, feeling like he was choking on something. The unfamiliar words, perhaps.  
  
Duo grinned widely. "Sure I do. After all, you just saved me from Randall-baby's tender mercies," he muttered, waving one hand at the thin corpse. Then a frown crossed his face. "Speaking of which, we probably better get out of here. It might not be cops, but somebody's sure to show up soon to see what all the shooting was about," Duo declared ominously. He rolled over onto his hands and knees, and Heero stood up quickly, taking a few steps away.  
  
Duo forgave him. That was one load off his mind. But there was still the other thing...   
  
Duo's interest suddenly fastened on 'Randall's' body, and he crawled over to it, pawing through the man's pockets. Heero frowned, until Duo made a noise of triumph and pulled out a thick wad of bills from the inside pocket of the man's jacket.  
  
"Yes! Pimps always carry cash," Duo informed Heero happily, shoving the money into his shorts. "These things really are damn convenient for storage," Duo mused, patting the lump in the spandex. Then he pushed himself slowly to his feet... and immediately staggered as his legs buckled.  
  
Heero caught him around the waist, pulling the barely dressed but obviously battered body close against him. The sensation of Duo's body pressed tightly against his produced a burst of confusing warmth and an odd tingling inside Heero.  
  
"Um... sorry, Heero. Don't think I can walk," Duo muttered against Heero's shoulder, where his head had landed. He sounded embarrassed by his weakness.  
  
Heero considered the situation for about half a second before pressing his gun into one of Duo's hands and sweeping the boy up in his arms like a child, cradling Duo against his chest. That strange warmth intensified, and he wanted to hold the other boy even closer, tighter, wanted to bury his face in the long, loose hair... He very carefully maintained a neutral expression, not allowing any of his unusual thoughts to show. He rather suspected this was not the reaction one should have to holding an injured friend in their arms.  
  
Duo blinked up at him in surprise. "Heero?" he said hesitantly, glancing at the gun.  
  
Heero did his best to smile, realizing it probably came out as more of a smirk. "My hands are full. You'll have to guard us," he explained shortly.  
  
"Oh," Duo said softly, turning the gun over in his hands. He stared down at it instead of looking at Heero as he asked quietly, "You'd trust me?"  
  
Heero winced internally, realizing that his little morning outburst would not be so easily smoothed over after all. He'd hurt Duo badly by questioning his trustworthiness and loyalty.  
  
Heero stared down at the bent head and answered, quietly but very firmly, "With my life."  
  
Duo looked up at him in surprise, but then a rueful grin twisted his features. "Yeah, well, you're always saying that life is cheap, especially yours, Heero. So that doesn't mean much, does it?" he asked, striving for a joking tone, but the bitterness in his voice was undeniable.  
  
Heero frowned, and abruptly dropped his own gaze to the gun, uncomfortable under Duo's bright and fragile stare. "I... had sort of hoped that... my life might be worth more... to you," he said softly, not quiet believing he was actually voicing the forbidden thought aloud. He heard Duo give a small gasp at his words, but didn't dare look at his friend's terribly expressive eyes as he nervously added, "I know yours is... worth a lot to me."  
  
At that, Duo made a choking noise, and Heero did look at him in sudden concern. But Duo was just staring at him, the violet eyes wide in surprise and... hope?  
  
"Really?" Duo whispered almost inaudibly.  
  
Heero felt a real smile warming his face slightly. "Really," he murmured, his eyes holding a promise that he only hoped Duo understood. Feeling greatly daring and more than a little reckless, Heero bent his head down and placed a gentle kiss against Duo's forehead.  
  
It was an echo of all the little teasing gestures Duo had been making for months.  
  
It was a response.  
  
Duo's smile was brimming with incredulous joy when Heero pulled his face away. Heero grinned down at his fiend. "Come on. Time to go home," he said, starting to move slowly toward the end of the alley. Duo obligingly turned to watch the street ahead of them, clicking the safety off the gun. But he settled his head comfortably against Heero's chest and murmured quietly, "I think I'm already there."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei opened the door to insistent knocking, and stumbled backwards in surprise at the sight that greeted him.  
  
Heero glowered at the Chinese boy and stepped past him into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind him, since his hands were full.  
  
Wufei paced around Heero to glare at the longhaired slender body the boy cradled to his chest. Heero's... passenger was dressed in a garish purple mesh shirt and waves of long, dark hair. A face peered out nervously from behind the dirty, ragged bangs, and Wufei's disapproval increased at the sight. The excessive, almost mask-like make-up combined with the scanty clothing identified the person as...   
  
"A whore?" Wufei demanded incredulously. "You go out to find Maxwell and apologize, and instead you compromise security by bringing home a cheap prostitute?" Quatre gasped in surprise, and Trowa frowned slightly at Heero's acquisition. The whore blinked wide violet eyes at Wufei. Heero growled angrily.  
  
"Geez, Wu, no need to be rude," the whore complained in a horrifyingly familiar voice. Wufei's eyes widened in shock as he suddenly recognized Duo under the paint and tawdry wardrobe. "And I'll have you know I'm not cheap," the American continued, oblivious to Wufei's increasing pallor and Quatre's dismay. "I'm fifty bucks an hour and worth every penny," he declared proudly. Heero showed no reaction to this other than to tighten his grip slightly.  
  
"Duo... you've been... selling yourself?" Quatre asked hesitantly. Trowa cast a confused look at the Arabian.  
  
"Of course he has," the injured boy said conversationally. "How else did you think he was earning large amounts of cash on a nightly basis?" Trowa spoke as though it were the most natural thing in the world, as though they all should have known without thinking about it what Duo was doing out on the streets.  
  
Heero felt a cold, hard knot form in his stomach. Somehow, once he'd recognized Duo, he'd dismissed from his thoughts the original impression he'd had of the scene back in the alley. A pimp threatening a whore. It couldn't have been, because it was Duo being threatened.  
  
Duo was a whore.  
  
Heero's brain really did not want to process that information.  
  
"I don't know... I suppose I thought he was working in a bar, serving or bartending or something," Quatre murmured, flushing slightly at Trowa's slightly condescending smile.  
  
Wufei was still staring at Duo in shock. Duo smirked at the Chinese boy and fished the wad of money he'd taken off the pimp out of his shorts. He flipped it at Wufei with a muttered, "Here. Count this."  
  
The crumpled bills hit Wufei's chest and fluttered to the floor, completely unheeded by the stunned Chinese pilot.  
  
Duo sighed and bumped his head against Heero's chest. "I could really use a shower," he hinted, glancing up at his transport. "My hair is full of blood and... stuff," he complained.  
  
Heero stared back at the boy in his arms for a long moment, then said simply, "Aa." He walked around Wufei and carried Duo towards the small bathroom.  
  
Wufei turned and watched the two of them until they disappeared down the short hall that led to the bathroom and Heero and Duo's bedroom. When he could no longer stare at Heero and Duo, he turned his wide, confused eyes to Quatre. The Arabian shrugged and glanced toward the hall, a worried frown on his face.  
  
Trowa just shook his head at them both and turned back to the magazine he was reading.  
  
+  
  
When they reached the bathroom, Heero glanced around, wondering what to do with Duo while he adjusted the water temperature. He'd already realized that he'd have to help his friend shower. He could see the dark bruises forming on Duo's stomach, legs and arms, some of them beside bruises that had already been there. The American was in sad shape, and too weak to stand on his own. Heero didn't want him to fall in the tub and break his neck, so...   
  
He figured they'd both shower in their underwear. That should satisfy propriety and allow Duo his privacy.  
  
"Um... thanks for the ride... I'll take it from here," Duo told him with a nervous smile.  
  
Heero frowned at him. "You can't stand up long enough to shower."  
  
"How do you know?" Duo demanded. "Maybe I got my second wind."  
  
Heero just snorted and draped his partner backward over the towel rack. Duo cursed and had to grab the metal bar with both hands, bracing his arms behind it, to keep himself from crumpling to the floor. "Second wind, huh?" Heero asked as he knelt and fiddled with the faucets in the tub. He quickly had the water adjusted to a comfortable warmth, and turned back to Duo, still on his knees, deciding to just go ahead with his plan without running it past Duo.  
  
He reached out and yanked the borrowed spandex down to Duo's ankles as the American let out a startled yelp... only to discover a flaw in his plan.  
  
Duo wasn't wearing underwear.  
  
Heero stared dumbly at his best friend's penis for a moment, then reflexively performed the inevitable mental comparison. His was bigger.  
  
Not that Duo's was unimpressive.  
  
"You're not wearing underwear," Heero remarked flatly. Duo was cursing quietly and fervently to himself, but his legs simply weren't responding at all, so he couldn't cover himself that way, and if he let go of the towel rack, he'd end up sprawled in Heero's lap.  
  
"I only have boxers. They looked weird under the spandex," Duo muttered.  
  
Heero continued to just stare for a few moments. Then, slowly, almost of its own accord, one of his hands reached out and gently brushed the nest of auburn curls at his eye level.  
  
"Heero?" Duo whispered nervously. This was weird. What the hell had Heero so fascinated? "What's the matter, never seen another guy's dork before?" Duo asked, striving for a humorous tone. Heero just continued to stare, and the fingers brushing Duo's pubic hair slowly moved to touch his penis. Duo gasped at the contact of those warm, callused fingers against his sensitive skin.  
  
This was beyond weird.  
  
He'd been attracted to Heero for a long time, but Heero had never shown any sign of being attracted to him... Duo had just about given up on hoping for anything more than friendship from the other boy. Indeed, friendship would have been enough. Would have been wonderful.  
  
Heero stared, enraptured and confused by his own actions, as his fingers slowly caressed the soft underside of Duo's shaft. He wasn't quite sure why he was doing this. He'd touched himself like this, sometimes, although Dr. J had always punished him if he found out. Encouraging hormonal responses might distract him from the mission at a crucial moment.  
  
It was hard not to, though.  
  
But now he wasn't touching himself. He was touching Duo.  
  
Although, considering the coiling warmth he felt in his groin, the effect seemed remarkably similar.  
  
He ran his fingers up and down the underside of Duo's penis, feeling the flaccid length beginning to stiffen beneath his touch even as Duo drew a halting breath somewhere above him.  
  
"Heero... " Duo whispered quietly, not sure if it was a question or a plea, or even what he might be asking or begging for. But... it felt good to be touched, so gently, almost reverently, by Heero, by someone he cared about. He still had no idea why Heero was doing this, but... he didn't really want him to stop.  
  
Heero closed his hand around Duo's stiffening penis, moving his hand up and down faster, increasing the friction. Duo was growing hot and hard, responding quickly to his ministrations, and Heero felt a sort of power he had never experienced before. Duo gave out a little moan of pleasure, and Heero pumped harder, reveling in his control. He was bringing Duo pleasure with his touch, and it was pleasurable to him as well. To the boy who had known very little but pain at the hands of others, this was a revelation. One could touch without hurting. One could touch in a way that felt good.  
  
_He_ could touch in a way that felt good.  
  
Duo's breath was coming in short gasps now, and the moans were more frequent. His shaft was swollen and erect, and a small bead of semen had formed at the tip.  
  
Heero was transfixed by that drop of moisture. He felt drawn toward it, enraptured by the sight, knowing Duo was feeling the same glorious pressure that Heero himself was, and here was the proof.  
  
An impulse gripped him, to show affection somehow... and all he could think of was Duo's teasing over the past few months. Those occasional, unexpected brushes of soft lips against his skin. Heero smiled slightly to himself and leaned forward, pressing his lips lightly to the quivering tip of Duo's rigid penis. Duo groaned louder, and Heero gave in to another impulse and parted his lips, slipping his mouth over the end of Duo's shaft and encasing it in the warm wet cavity. His tongue flicked against the tip, tasting the bitter, salty fluid...   
  
And then Duo's hips thrust forward, forcing the swollen penis further into Heero's mouth, and Heero found his mouth suddenly full of the hot liquid. Surprised and shocked out of his strange detachment, he pulled his head away from Duo's penis, spitting out the mouthful of semen even as Duo continued to orgasm, the pale, sticky fluid splattering in Heero's hair, across his face, and onto his tank top.  
  
Duo sagged from the towel rack, knees now hopelessly reduced to rubber and a goofy smile on his face for a moment. With a sigh, his eyes fluttered open to see Heero kneeling before him, staring in surprise and mild disgust at the milky substance that liberally decorated his hair, skin and clothing.  
  
Duo couldn't repress an amused snort. Heero glared up at him, although without the usual degree of homicidal fury.  
  
"Now we both need a shower," Duo declared helpfully, unable to contain his wide grin. Heero carefully wiped a splatter of semen from his cheek and made a face at his dirty fingers, grunting in agreement. He stood up and quickly stripped off his clothes, leaving his black cotton briefs on as he dumped the soiled shirt and shorts into the sink. Duo noted with amusement that Heero hadn't been startled enough by the results of his actions that he'd ruined his own enjoyment. The black spandex sported a thoroughly wet crotch. Heero ran some water into the sink and left the clothes to soak. He turned back to Duo, who was smirking wickedly, but Heero refused to be distracted again, and quickly finished stripping Duo of his clothes, tossing them into the sink as well. He pulled off Duo's boots and the leather belts and wristbands, then toed off his own sneakers, and manhandled his friend into the tub.  
  
Of necessity, they had to face one another so the water could rinse through Duo's hair. Heero carefully kept his gaze focused on Duo's left ear and tried to ignore the obvious fact that Duo was naked and pressed against him, and he was wearing only very wet cotton briefs...   
  
Duo was not even attempting to ignore this fact. He had never in a million years expected anything like what had just happened _to_ happen, but it had... But now, Heero seemed embarrassed by the whole thing. Only natural, Duo supposed, especially since it was pretty obvious Heero had never done anything of the sort before. _But still, he could at least look at me..._

"Heero?" Duo asked hesitantly.  
  
Heero abruptly turned Duo to face the wall and lifted one of the American's hands to the soapdish at about shoulder level. "Hold that, I'll wash your hair," Heero said flatly.  
  
Duo bit his lip at the tone, but didn't dare protest. He hung on to the soapdish for dear life as Heero released his grip on Duo's waist. After a moment, Duo could feel his wet hair being lifted. "Some of it's still braided," he said quietly, keeping his voice carefully free of inflection. Who knew what mood Heero was in now?  
  
Heero replied simply, "Aa," having already discovered the smaller braid concealed by the loose hair. He worked the band off and carefully unplaited the long hair. When it was all hanging in one dark mass down to below Duo's buttocks, which was a mercy Heero was grateful for, he grabbed the shampoo bottle and squeezed out a liberal handful. For the sake of his self-control, as well as because it was the most efficient method, Heero decided to start at the top and work his way down.  
  
The sounds of pleasure Duo made at Heero's fingers massaging the shampoo into his scalp made the Japanese boy frown. He'd been surprised out of his strange mood earlier when Duo had shot a load into his mouth, but his surprise was quickly fading beneath the warm water and the feel of soft, wet skin and silky hair under his hands...   
  
He was going to have to take his time washing Duo's hair and hope that the evidence of his enjoyment faded before he had to attempt holding the other boy against him again.  
  
Heero was feeling just a little bit sickened by what he had done. Not because Duo was a boy. Heero's only true prejudice was against his enemies. Not having been much educated in relationships and sexual roles, he didn't really see much difference or any particular problem in being attracted to a boy rather than a girl. It was more that... he hadn't really known he was attracted to Duo. He knew he liked being around the other boy, although Duo could be annoying at times, and he knew that he had always recognized Duo's intrinsic beauty, but that was just a simple aesthetic fact. Duo was beautiful. Anyone could see that.  
  
But what he'd just done to Duo was not the sort of thing inspired by casual affection and objective admiration. Touching Duo had given Heero a pleasure more intense than anything he'd ever managed on his own, or even believed possible.  
  
But he had no idea how Duo felt about it.  
  
Oh, he knew Duo had physically enjoyed the strange little encounter, he was wearing the evidence of that... but he also knew that the human body would respond to certain physical stimuli whether a person consciously wanted it to or not.  
  
And he had no idea if Duo had wanted him to do what he had just done, right then, or ever.  
  
And he was terrified of finding out... either way.  
  
He was terrified of losing his friend... and he was equally terrified of acquiring... something else. What, he couldn't be sure, but he knew it would be too strong an attachment. A liability, a weakness. And Duo was enough of one already. Hadn't Heero blatantly defied his orders already to save the American when he should have shot him?  
  
Heero didn't know what to do, or what he wanted, or what he felt.  
  
So he just slowly washed the blood and dirt from Duo's hair, and then the semen and sweat from his own.  
  
Duo clung to the soapdish and fought back tears as he slowly accepted the painfully obvious fact that Heero's little experiment had just been a fluke. Why would someone like Heero, someone so strong and smart and wonderful, want a dirty, worthless street-whore junkie? Obviously, the Japanese boy, who'd been so disgusted by Duo's lack of self-control which had left him covered in semen, was not interested in discussing the incident. It had been a mistake, and Heero would not speak of it again, and Duo would be expected to let it lie as well.  
  
Duo sighed and let his tired eyes slide closed, hanging onto the soapdish for dear life and trying to enjoy the once-in-a-lifetime experience of Heero's gentle hands washing his hair.  
  
Too good to be true. More than he deserved.  
  
All that he would ever have.  
  
+  
  
Heero ignored Duo's protests that he was feeling better after their shower and carried the American into their shared bedroom as Duo grumbled in his arms. Heero could feel the tension in the slight body he held against his chest. Duo _was_ upset, then.  
  
But the look he cast up at Heero when he set Duo gently on the bed made the Japanese pilot wonder exactly what Duo was upset about. Because Heero had gone too far... or not far enough? Did Duo want... more?  
  
Heero dismissed the thought, as well as the accompanying heat it provoked in his groin, as ridiculous. Duo had been selling his body on the streets for days. He certainly wouldn't want more of the same activity at "home."  
  
Heero carefully kept his back to his roommate as he quickly changed out of his soaked briefs, hoping Duo wouldn't be able to see the obvious evidence that Heero was quite interested in additional activity.  
  
"Heero?" Duo asked hesitantly from behind him. Heero grunted questioningly as he zipped up a pair of uncomfortably tight jeans. It was really too hot for the heavy denim, but they were the most restraining things he owned... and he needed a little restraint at the moment.  
  
When Duo didn't respond to his grunt, he was forced to turn and face his friend.  
  
Who was still sitting where Heero had left him on the bed, and still wearing nothing but a small towel across his lap and yards of dripping hair.  
  
Heero felt the jeans grow even more uncomfortable.  
  
"What?" he asked, guessing that Duo was in one of those moods where he would not accept grunts and glares as communication. Duo was not known for his patience, but he could be infuriatingly stubborn when the impulse struck him.  
  
In reply, Duo grabbed a handful of long, tangled hair and made a face at it. The dark violet eyes flicked nervously toward Heero. "Um. Do you think maybe you could give me a hand brushing this mess out?" Duo asked tentatively. The tense set of his shoulders betrayed his expectation of refusal, and normally, Heero would have given him what he expected. Tonight, though...   
  
The day had been such a crazy emotional roller coaster, and Heero Yuy was not supposed to suffer from that sort of difficulty. But he'd started the day with a screaming match with his best friend, the aftermath of which had left him despondent and angry for most of the day. Then he'd spent the evening searching for Duo to apologize, an entirely new experience. Then he'd killed three men in an alley and inadvertently saved Duo from whatever they were trying to do to him. Then he'd brought Duo home and been hit in the face with the stunning revelation that the boy had been selling his body on the street to support the rest of them. And then there had been that strange interlude in the bathroom...   
  
All this on just two and a half hours sleep.  
  
Heero saw that while he contemplated the bizarre course of his day, Duo had given up on the idea of getting any assistance, and grabbed the brush off the nightstand beside the bed. Heero watched for a moment as the American struggled with the unwieldy mass of hair, wincing as he jarred bruises and sore ribs.  
  
Then Heero walked over and sat on the bed, gently but firmly pulling the hairbrush from Duo's slightly trembling fingers. Heero pulled the pile of wet hair into his lap, not caring when it soaked the fabric of his jeans. The cool water was somewhat soothing on his still-uncomfortable arousal. Heero began carefully and methodically brushing out Duo's hair, from the ends up this time. By the time he had worked his way to about the middle of the incredibly long fall of hair, the upper layers were beginning to dry and float wispily about, clinging to his arms with static electricity.  
  
Duo had slowly relaxed under his ministrations, to the point where his entire slender torso was swaying back and forth with the force of Heero's strokes with the brush. Duo was also emitting little moans and sighs of pleasure, which were doing nothing for the fit of Heero's jeans.  
  
Finally, the monumental task was accomplished, and Heero had a new respect for Duo's patience. It certainly couldn't be as lacking as it sometimes seemed if the boy went through this ritual on a daily basis.  
  
"Do you want it braided?" Heero asked, surprised when his voice came out slightly roughened. Duo flinched slightly at the odd note as well, and threw him a confused glance over one shoulder. But then he just nodded and turned away again.  
  
Heero stared blankly at the cascading masses of almost-dry chestnut strands and frowned slightly to himself.  
  
"Uh... how exactly do you do that?" he finally asked, this time managing to keep the huskiness from his voice.  
  
Duo started slightly in surprise, then chuckled softly to himself, apparently amused by his own assumption that everyone knew how to braid hair. "First separate it into three equal parts... " he began, and carefully explained the procedure. After a few abortive attempts, Heero got the hang of the pattern, and quickly accomplished the task.  
  
He wrapped the elastic band Duo pulled from the handle of the hairbrush carefully around the end of the immaculate braid, and couldn't resist murmuring a satisfied, "Ninmu kanryou."  
  
Duo chuckled again, and twisted his head, craning his neck to look over his shoulder at Heero's handiwork. "Hey, nice job, Hee-chan," he commented with a pleased little grin. His eyes flicked up to regard Heero with a devilish glint. "Of course, since you mussed it all up in the bathroom, it was the least you could do," he added mockingly.  
  
"I liked it," Heero admitted, a bit surprised at hearing himself admit such a thing. Duo blinked at him in shock, his eyes widening.  
  
"You liked brushing my hair?" he asked with mild incredulity.  
  
Heero cocked his head slightly, considering the question as he ran a finger down the neat length of the braid. "Yes," he said slowly, "that, too."  
  
Duo frowned slightly in confusion. "Too?" he asked.  
  
Heero finally met the inquisitive gaze, and was shocked to hear himself confessing, "I think I liked mussing you up even better, though."  
  
Duo was beyond shocked. His mouth opened and closed several times, like a landed fish. His eyes were so wide that white could be seen all around the irises.  
  
For some reason, Heero found himself fixating on the movement of those soft, full lips, still somewhat stained from the lipstick Duo had been wearing earlier. Before he realized his own intention, Heero leaned forward and gently took Duo's lower lip into his mouth. His eyes slid shut as he ran his tongue along the surprisingly soft flesh. He very carefully clamped his teeth down on the skin, not hard enough to draw blood, or even to hurt, only to hold this piece of Duo captive...   
  
"Uh, Heero... wha' are you doeh'?" Duo mumbled after a moment. Heero's eyes snapped open to see Duo looking at him from very close up indeed, his brows drawn down over confused eyes.  
  
Heero abruptly jerked away, barely remembering in time to unclamp his teeth so he didn't take Duo's lip away with him.  
  
"Heero?" Duo asked cautiously as the Japanese boy stared determinedly at the floor beside the bed, his body rigid with tension.  
  
"I don't know," Heero answered quietly. He felt his control slipping, and knew his voice would betray him if he spoke any louder. "I don't know what I'm doing," he continued in a flat monotone.  
  
"Oh," Duo said thoughtfully. Heero continued to stare at the floor as he felt the other boy shifting beside him. He was startled when he felt Duo's fingers on his chin, but didn't resist very hard when the other boy turned Heero's face back towards his own. Duo's eyes were half-lidded and dark, and there was a slight, almost predatory smile on his lips. "Well," he murmured huskily, leaning slowly towards Heero, "my guess would be you were trying to do... this."  
  
And Duo brushed his lips gently against Heero's closed mouth, once, twice, then with a lingering pressure. Heero stiffened as he felt Duo's tongue gently caressing his own lips, but he instinctively parted them before the gentle pressure. Duo made a happy, rumbling sound against his mouth, and gently nudged at the barrier of Heero's teeth until the Japanese pilot finally allowed him to fully enter his mouth. Heero just sat there for a while, bemused by the sensation of Duo's lips moving against his own, even as Duo's tongue softly explored the depths of Heero's mouth. His own tongue rose to meet the intruder in instinctive defense, but Duo seemed pleased by this response, and soon their tongues were thrusting forcefully against one another. Duo's lips pressed harder against his own, and Heero responded in kind to that sensation as well, their mouths working against one another in a battle for control, but also in the mutual pleasure of exploration.  
  
After a breathless eternity, Duo pulled gently away from the contact, and Heero stared at the other boy, feeling strangely bereft at the distance. The dull throbbing in his groin was rapidly becoming unbearable, and Heero knew soon he would have to disobey his orders again, and touch himself as he had touched Duo earlier.  
  
Of course, when he had done that to Duo, he hadn't even needed to touch himself to find release, so technically, he hadn't disobeyed. He wondered if Duo would allow him to do it again.  
  
"Duo... I need... " He trailed off, unsure how to phrase this request.  
  
Duo smiled wickedly at him, running his tongue over swollen lips in a gesture that nearly made Heero whimper as his jeans seemed to grow even tighter.  
  
"Do you?" the American asked, the smile shifting to a knowing smirk as Duo, with shocking boldness, reached out a hand and unerringly grasped the hot bulge at Heero's groin. Heero's eyes rolled back and he gasped involuntarily at the sudden contact, Duo's hand not very gently rubbing against his erection through the taut denim. He felt his body shudder in response, and decided that Duo touching him wasn't breaking orders either. Just as he thought he was going to find his relief, however, Duo's touch suddenly disappeared.  
  
Heero's eyes flew open in shock and something like agony at the deprivation. But Duo was still smirking, and calmly ordered, "Take 'em off, babe. We're gonna do this, we'll do it right. You may not know what you're doing or what you need, but I sure as hell do."  
  
Heero frowned at his friend. There was something jarring in Duo's manner, something too old, too practiced in his expression, his words, the way he held himself. "Duo?" he asked a bit warily. "Are you sure you want... this?"  
  
Duo's smirk faded into a startlingly blank expression, and he just stared at Heero for a moment. Then an entirely different expression suffused the heart-shaped face, and Duo looked younger, nervous, and strangely vulnerable. "Yes, I do. I think I need it, Heero. Don't... don't you?" Duo asked hesitantly.  
  
"I don't think I've ever wanted anything more," Heero confessed fervently.  
  
Duo's rare genuine smile blossomed slowly on his face as he leaned in to kiss Heero again, more gently this time, with less of need and aggression, and more of affection and desire. He pulled away almost regretfully, and murmured softly, "Then let me do this for you... please, Heero... Let me do this right for once... "  
  
Heero let his eyes slide closed and surrendered to the overwhelming sensations Duo's practiced touch was drawing from his body.  
  
He ignored the small, cold voice within that wondered if this were a wise move or not. He'd think about that later.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

Duo awoke to a familiar vague soreness and an unfamiliar feeling of contentment. He frowned slightly to himself as his groggy mind struggled to recall the reason for that odd combination.  
  
The smile widened into a huge, happy grin as he remembered... Heero. The Japanese boy had been clumsy and uncertain, but Duo hadn't minded. For once he was actually glad of his own extensive experience, as he was able to call upon his knowledge to give Heero pleasure. And he had certainly accomplished that mission. He clearly remembered the expression of shocked ecstasy on the normally scowling face.  
  
Heero had looked so... young.  
  
Duo sighed, the grin fading a bit as he thought about that. Heero _was_ young. But so was Duo. He only _felt_ a million years old. He was really still just a kid. And last night, with Heero...   
  
For the first time in... a very long time, Duo had felt almost... innocent. At least by reflection. When Heero had made his desires clear, Duo had attempted to give him a casual roll, the same practiced and professional effort he gave his usual customers. But Heero... Heero had sensed the difference, had known what Duo was trying to do, the distance he was trying to keep between them, and... Heero hadn't let him do it. He'd known something wasn't right, and he'd snapped Duo back out of his well-rehearsed act, shocking him into being honest, with Heero, and with himself.  
  
Duo had called upon his years of experience last night, but for the first time he could recall, perhaps the first time ever, his actions had been fueled by pure emotion.  
  
Duo rolled out of bed, smiling dreamily to himself as he searched around for clothing. Heero was already up and about, but that was typical. It was nice of him to let Duo sleep in, anyway. He still felt a bit rocky after the events of the previous few days.  
  
He pulled on the only pair of pants he could find, his heavy jodhpurs. The thick fabric was stifling in the heat, but Duo was used to it. He decided the shirts would just be too much, though, and he didn't like to wear the cassock when he'd been "working" so recently. Just something that bothered him a bit. After searching fruitlessly for another shirt in his own belongings until he finally remembered his sleeping shirt was across town in an abandoned tenement, Duo decided with a slight smirk to wear one of Heero's tank tops.  
  
He slipped it over his head and pulled his braid out the neckhole. The tank was light and loose, a bit bigger on his less muscular frame than it was on Heero. It didn't do much to cover the bruises on his arms, but it did conceal the much nastier ones on his chest and stomach.  
  
And it smelled like Heero, which was a big selling point.  
  
Heero...   
  
Duo Maxwell was a bit too jaded to believe in romantic love, but he certainly did believe in lust, and he had learned over the years that sometimes lust and friendship could combine into something that was a bit more than the sum of its parts. He'd never tried to name it, had only cherished it on the few rare occasions he'd actually experienced it.  
  
He was feeling it again.  
  
Heero...   
  
Duo ran his hand down the length of his braid, the braid Heero had woven for him, and allowed himself a goofy little grin. He noticed that the braid had gotten a bit tousled during the night's activities, and glanced around, looking for the brush. It was lying on the nightstand beside the bed.  
  
Next to a small piece of paper with his name printed on it in firm block letters.  
  
Duo felt the grin fade from his face as he walked over to the table and picked up the piece of paper... and the neat stack of bills lying beneath it.  
  
The paper had only his name written on it. He dropped it carelessly to the floor and with an oddly detached calm, counted out the money Heero had left him.  
  
Then he counted it again, and a third time, but stopped at the fourth because his hands were beginning to shake a bit too hard.  
  
He wavered briefly between misery and rage.  
  
Then he nearly knocked the door off its hinges as he slammed out into the apartment.  
  
+  
  
Heero set his half-eaten apple down carefully on the kitchen table when he heard the crash of the bedroom door. Quatre started at the sudden loud noise, almost spilling orange juice all over himself. Wufei accidentally squeezed the slice of grapefruit he was eating, squirting juice all over his face. He hissed and scowled as some of it got in his eyes. Trowa, who had managed to make it to the table, just looked up from the previous day's paper, one eyebrow raising in confusion.  
  
Duo's heavy tread could be clearly heard as he stomped unerringly toward the kitchen. Not a good sign. Duo was naturally stealthy, most of the time. When he was very loud, he was either in an obnoxiously cheerful mood... or a very, very bad one.  
  
When he appeared in the kitchen doorway, hair a bit tousled, violet eyes blazing with fury, and an utterly blank expression on his face, there was little question of which mood this was.  
  
Heero met that angry glare with a coolly impassive gaze.  
  
"What the hell is this, Yuy?" the American demanded, his voice unnaturally tight and harsh. He held up a handful of money. Quatre watched the boy warily, Wufei scowled nervously, and Trowa frowned slightly, glancing at Heero.  
  
Heero just shrugged imperturbably. "Your fee," he replied flatly. "You said fifty an hour, right?"  
  
Duo's eyes blazed even hotter in rage. "I think I hate you," he informed Heero, in a deadly, soft tone. Then suddenly, an angry, manic grin suffused his face, his eyes beginning to shine with a bit of the slightly deranged fury Shinigami displayed in battle. "I'll keep this, because I sure as hell earned it," Duo announced, his voice just a bit too loud and brittle. Then the delicate brows drew down in a scowl and he spat angrily at Heero, "But management reserves the right to refuse service. So next time you've got an itch you need scratched, Yuy, you can damn well go fuck _yourself_."  
  
And with that, Duo spun on his heel and stomped out of the apartment.  
  
Silence reigned in the kitchen as Heero stared blankly at the door Duo had disappeared out of, Quatre struggled not to cry, and Wufei looked utterly baffled.  
  
Trowa very slowly began to frown. "You _didn't_ ," the tall boy finally demanded of Heero. Heero blinked, and finally looked away from the door to meet Trowa's incredulous and increasingly annoyed stare.  
  
"I did," he replied flatly.  
  
Trowa punched him in the nose.  
  
It wasn't a very hard punch, Trowa was still quite weak, and he didn't have a very good angle in their current positions. But it still got his point across admirably, Heero thought. He scowled at the wounded boy.  
  
"What was that for?" Heero demanded.  
  
Trowa's frown deepened. "If you don't know, I couldn't possibly explain," the tall boy told him sharply. But then Trowa's eyes narrowed as he stared intently into Heero's face. "But I think you know perfectly well. Which makes it even crueler."  
  
Heero couldn't repress the guilty flinch Trowa's words provoked. He dropped his gaze to the half-eaten apple.  
  
"You have to have started it," Trowa commented flatly.  
  
Heero frowned at his apple. "Yes," he admitted, keeping his voice modulated to the cold monotone. "But it was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened. We have to operate independently, and without concern for ourselves or each other. Our lives belong to the colonies, and we have no right to... " Heero trailed off into silence, unable to adequately express his point. Somehow it didn't sound quite right when he tried to say it aloud. He shook his head in irritated confusion. "Dr. J was right all along," he muttered morosely, almost to himself. "The physical sensations... hormonal reactions... It's a weakness, a dangerous weakness. A distraction I can't afford. He... it could endanger the mission... "  
  
"You're an ass," Trowa informed him calmly.  
  
"What?" Heero demanded, glowering at the tall boy. Trowa just crossed his arms and stared coolly back at Heero.  
  
"I said, you're an ass," Trowa repeated conversationally. "But perhaps you meant to ask why. Well, I'll tell you." He paused and his emerald eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at Heero. "I admired you, once upon a time, Heero. For your dedication. Your single-minded devotion to your purpose. I was awed at how easily you put aside all other concerns in the interests of achieving your goals. I wished I could learn to put aside petty concerns, so that I could be as focused, as strong as you." Trowa paused again, and shook his head ruefully. "But I was wrong about you Heero. You didn't choose to put your missions before yourself out of dedication, you did it out of fear. It's so much easier not to think about anything outside our private war, isn't it? It's so easy to pretend you're just a part of your Gundam, a machine, only required, and only capable, of operating under specific set parameters. So much easier than being human." Trowa frowned at Heero. "I admired what I thought was your strength, but in truth, it's really your greatest weakness, Heero. You're afraid to be human. All you are is a weapon. It's sad and pathetic, but that's all it would be... if you hadn't dragged Duo into it."  
  
Heero blinked in surprise, both at the length of Trowa's speech, and at this bizarre comment.  
  
Trowa just shook his head again. "If you'd never responded to him, that would have been one thing. Pathetic, but acceptable. Or if you had been strong enough to accept that you feel something more than casual friendship for him, that would have been surprising, but good for everyone involved. But instead, you let your hormones overwhelm you, then got scared by what that implied, and decided to just pass it off as a casual experiment."  
  
"Do you have a point?" Heero snapped, growing a bit annoyed at Trowa's analysis of his character.  
  
Trowa just sighed and frowned disappointedly at him. "My point is, you're an ass," he concluded bitterly, before turning back to his newspaper.  
  
+  
  
Duo sat huddled against the wall that was sparsely covered with peeling floral wallpaper, engaged in an intense staring contest with an overconfident rat.  
  
The obnoxious rodent had come crawling out of one of the gaping holes in the far wall while Duo sat silently, still as a statue, clutching Heero's wadded up tank top against his chest like some kid with a teddy bear.  
  
After another few moments of frozen mutual contemplation, the rat lost interest in the silent boy, and ambled slowly along the edge of the wall, looking for something more exciting to investigate.  
  
"Arrogant bastard, aren't you?" Duo muttered softly, his eyes, slightly reddened and puffy, tracking the rodent's passage around the room. "There was a time, my furry friend, when that would have won you a one-time-only invitation to dinner, back in my old neighborhood." The rat paused briefly and glanced at Duo when he started speaking, but soon continued its leisurely perusal of the room. Its path brought it within five feet of the human as it grew bolder.  
  
With a sudden motion more quick and savage than graceful, Duo abruptly lunged forward, his right hand grabbing the momentarily stunned rodent. With a swift, practiced motion, the boy pressed his thumb hard against the back of the rat's skull, breaking the creature's neck and killing it instantly. Duo held his new pose for a moment, body stretched across the floor, balanced on his right knee, left foot, and left hand. He stared at the dead rat and idly wondered where the impulse to kill the animal had come from. He didn't need it for food, not with a wad of bills stuffed deep into the pocket of his pants. It hadn't threatened to bite him, and didn't seem diseased, anyway.  
  
No reason, then. Just... reflex.  
  
Duo frowned, dropping the dead rodent on the dusty floor as he settled back against the wall. Reflex. Old, ingrained responses and behaviors, kicking back in. That was what killing the rat had been about.  
  
That was what all of it had been about.  
  
From the instant he'd dragged his friends into this run-down little slum, which was just like every other miserable hole he'd lived in, he'd begun reverting to old behavior patterns. He'd had to, in order to keep them all concealed and alive, to get the money they needed to eat and rent the apartment and care for Trowa's injuries...   
  
Or... had he really had to do the things he'd done? Duo wondered for the first time if he could have found another way to make the money they needed, if he'd really thought about it. To be perfectly honest, his thieving skills were probably good enough by now that he could have ripped stuff off from a clinic with very little risk, and he'd never been above a little B&E and some safecracking to supplement his funds.  
  
So why had he been so certain...   
  
_I've been running on autopilot_ , Duo mused to himself. He glanced to his side and picked up the bundled tank top he'd dropped, pausing to stare at the small collection of items the shirt had fallen on.  
  
Lipstick, a bent spoon from the diner near the apartment, a nearly-empty tube of body glitter, a lighter, a small eye shadow compact, a strip of discarded latex from the local clinic's trash bin, mascara, a shiny new hypodermic needle, a small mirror, a smaller bag of white powder...   
  
He was afraid to move at this point. Killing the rat, that had just been impulse, but any premeditated movement was an unnerving proposition, as he wasn't entirely certain if he'd be able to control his body once it got started. Even the rat, he realized, had been dangerous, as he carefully clasped his trembling hands around his legs, sweat making their grips on his wrists slippery and precarious. It was, above all else, important to keep his hands still.  
  
With an almost painful wrench, Duo dragged his gaze away from the little pile of accumulated... trash... and instead pressed his face against his knees. The shaking was starting to move up his arms, and he struggled for control, for the strength to fight it off.  
  
He wasn't finding it this time, though.  
  
Two years ago, there had been the training, the mission, the fight for freedom to focus on. He had believed in it, then. Now... things had just gotten too confusing. He still fought for what he believed in, but he held no illusions that anyone on the Colonies would mourn his death. Fighting a guerilla war was wearing on the soul.  
  
And this time, for the first day there had been Heero. He'd had his anger and his need to prove to the Japanese boy that he was worthy of Heero's respect, and maybe, someday, his affection. That and sheer bloody-minded stubbornness had gotten him through yesterday.  
  
But today was an entirely different story.  
  
He couldn't prove he was worthy of the respect Heero had for him because... Heero obviously never had respected him. Not that he could really blame the other boy for that, but... it hurt.  
  
And as for stubbornness... he was just so damn tired.  
  
Every inch of his body, inside and out, ached or burned or throbbed with pain. Some of it was the tail end of the joys of heroin withdrawal, but most was the result of recent beatings and... business transactions.  
  
Duo felt a shiver run up his spine as the trembling slowly spread into his body.  
  
_Should have just ignored the damn rat._

He felt cold, sitting there in the middle of a heatwave. Frozen and alone. He hated being alone.  
  
But he didn't have anyone left to go to.  
  
The very thought of facing Heero right now, after the Japanese pilot had made it so painfully clear that Duo was nothing more to him than an easy lay, was just... unbearable. His anger had carried him through that first unavoidable confrontation, but now...   
  
And as for the others... it was a pretty safe bet that Heero had spilled the beans about Duo's past drug abuse. Trowa, at least, had had a front row seat for that little argument, and Wufei and Quatre had probably heard every word. And then last night...   
  
Duo cringed slightly, remembering the disgust in Wufei's voice as he scolded Heero for bringing home a ‘cheap whore'. Logically, Duo knew Wufei hadn't really meant to apply the phrase to him, but... well, the damn shoe fit.  
  
That had hurt, too. Aside from Heero, the other three pilots were... well, they were the closest thing he'd had to a family in... years. And now...   
  
_God. They must be so disgusted._

Something very like a strangled sob wrenched itself from Duo's throat at that thought. But... Quatre... Wufei... they were so... naïve, both in their own way. Oh, they were more than capable pilots and fighters, but Duo strongly suspected that neither had really seen much of life on the poor side of town. They couldn't possibly understand the kind of desperation and deprivation that could drive a person to let some stranger invade their body for a few bucks. Or how, in that same hopeless, miserable situation, it made perfect sense sometimes to turn around and spend that hard-earned cash on poison, as long as it just made everything go away for a while.  
  
No, they couldn't possibly understand. He could expect nothing but disappointment and distaste from them.  
  
Heero... Heero just thought he was a whore. A fucking junkie whore. A small whimper escaped his lips.  
  
Trowa...   
  
Duo hesitated for a moment. Trowa. Trowa was... different. Hard to read, but definitely not the innocent Quatre or Wufei was. And usually a bit more pragmatic about some things than Heero. Not about orders, or putting the mission first all the time, but... about real life.  
  
Trowa... there was an outside chance that Trowa might... just maybe... understand.  
  
Duo let that thought settle into his mind, and felt the trembling slowly recede to a manageable level. Finally, he took a chance and released his death grip on his wrists.  
  
When this failed to immediately bring about disaster, Duo decided maybe he could risk getting up.  
  
As soon as he moved, though, he found himself staring down at the pile of assembled items he'd been studying earlier.  
  
Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and the trembling came back, leaving him shivering in the heat of the dingy abandoned building.  
  
_Trowa_ , he reminded himself firmly. _I just have to get to Trowa. He'll help me, he'll understand, he'll help... just have to **get** there... _

Five minutes later, he was still staring at the makeup and other things. Finally, he spread the tank top out on the dusty floor and scooped the whole mess into the center, tying the edges together to make a little sack.  
  
He vaguely registered the thought that it was not a good thing that he couldn't bring himself to just leave the drugs behind. But most of his mind was concentrating on the idea of getting to Trowa.  
  
That one little part of his mind that seemed bent on playing Devil's Advocate then began wondering what he would do if Trowa couldn't or wouldn't help him.  
  
He did his best to ignore it, but the hand holding the tank top bag tightened until the knuckles were white.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero lay on the rumpled bed staring at the ceiling. After a tense couple of hours, he'd finally surrendered the living room to Trowa's irritated glowering. Stubborn only went so far when Trowa was truly disgusted with you.  
  
Heero scowled at the ceiling.  
  
He'd done what he had to do. What was best, in the long run, for everyone involved.  
  
Hadn't he?  
  
Yes, Duo was very angry, and part of Heero regretted the strain this would probably put on their friendship...   
  
_"I think I hate you."_

Heero's scowl softened slightly into a somewhat more mournful expression as he recalled the coldness in Duo's voice. The American just may have meant that statement very literally. Heero sighed, shaking his head. It didn't matter if Duo was angry at him. Angry was good. It would reestablish the correct distance between them.  
  
Not that he blamed Duo for what had happened. As Trowa had so astutely determined, Heero had started it. The responsibility, the fault, lay with himself.  
  
The weakness.  
  
Trowa had called him weak. But not for quite the same reasons...   
  
_"You're afraid to be human."_

_"If you had never responded to him... "_

_But I did. I did respond. And that was 'being human', wasn't it? And it was a bad thing._

_Wasn't it?_

Heero closed his eyes briefly and was assaulted with a painfully clear memory of Duo's face the night before, just moments before Heero had finally found the release he had sought, had been craving, for so long. He'd thought they would have to be back to front, but Duo had shown him there were other possible configurations. And Duo had said he wanted to be able to see Heero's face.  
  
Heero had understood that request. Naturally, Duo would want to remain aware he was not sharing the bed with another faceless partner off the street. And, he had to admit, he didn't mind being able to see Duo's face either.  
  
The memory was briefly overlaid by a slightly earlier one, of Duo's face when the... encounter first began. It had been different, somehow. The American hadn't quite looked like himself, and Heero had questioned his determination to go through with... it.  
  
But Duo's face had changed after he said that.

_"Please let me do this for you... "_

Heero squirmed slightly on the bed, frowning. He hadn't really thought about Duo's words before. He'd grown so accustomed to tuning out nonessential babble that he sometimes didn't even register anything Duo said if he was distracted.  
  
And he had been distracted. But now...   
  
_"Please, Heero... "_

 _He_ had been the supplicant. Not Duo. _He_ was the untrained, clumsy virgin. _He_ was the one who _wanted_...   
  
_"Please, Heero... "_

Duo's face, just before Heero came inside him, had been... flushed, of course. Happy, in a way. But mostly... Mostly the braided boy had been... intent.  
  
Heero turned that thought over in his mind a few times. Yes, intent was definitely the right word. So very intensely focused...   
  
When Heero had woken up, limbs still entangled with Duo's, the other boy's warm breath making a damp spot on the side of his neck, Heero had panicked. The storm of hormones from the night before had passed, and he realized he had let things go a bit too far.  
  
He had _taken_ things a bit too far.  
  
His body had started to react to Duo's close presence even before he was fully awake, and that had made Heero... scared. Scared, yes, but also angry.  
  
He'd trained for years to achieve the control he had over himself. Yes, it had been a goal imposed on him by others, but _he_ had achieved it. And now, in one night, Duo had completely ripped that control away...   
  
_"Please let me... "_

Except that Duo hadn't started it.  
  
_"You're an ass."_

Heero heaved an exasperated sigh. He'd been confused, uncertain, and he had done the first thing he could think of to reset the relationship to it's proper detachment. He'd thought it would be cruel to wake Duo up and inform him that the previous night's experiment was something that could never happen again, so he had decided that the money would be a better way to give the same message. It was just the one time. It couldn't happen again. Not that he hadn't enjoyed it.  
  
He'd actually overpaid. Sort of a compliment. Duo didn't seem to have noticed or appreciated that detail. Heero frowned. Duo actually hadn't seemed to 'appreciate' much at all about his little message.  
  
He had known Duo would be less than thrilled with him, but... well, he hadn't quite expected the degree of Duo's fury. Duo should have been more accepting of a one night stand than Heero himself.  
  
_"You're an ass."_

_"Please let me do this for you... "_

That face, softened by some unnamable emotion, so curiously focused and intent... on what? On the sensations Duo was experiencing? On what the boy's practiced hands were doing to Heero's body? On keeping his hips raised at just the right angle? No, none of that seemed right, somehow.  
  
_"Please let me... "_

 _"If you had accepted that you feel more than casual friendship... "_  
  
But that's the one thing I can't accept. That's the one thing I can't do.  
  
"Please let me... "

Duo kissing him quickly, unexpectedly, laughing as he backed away, watching Heero with mischievous eyes... Duo staring at him in dismay, his pupils contracted to pinpoints... Duo standing in a dozen different doorways, smiling patiently and pushing Heero's gun aside... Duo watching him from across a quiet dorm room, a noisy cafeteria, peering from the viewscreen of his Gundam... Always, always watching, looking... at Heero.  
  
Focused.  
  
Intently.  
  
On Heero.  
  
_"Please, let me do this right for once... "_

 _... for **you**... _ his mind suddenly translated in a flash of insight.  
  
_"You're an ass."_

"Oh gods... " Heero murmured flatly to the ceiling. "I _am_ an ass."  
  
The ceiling offered no comfort.  
  
Heero rolled into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.  
  
_He did that... for me. Did it 'right'... let it be more, mean more, than just a one night stand. Just a fling. Just physical interaction. That was... that was..._

_And I paid him._

Heero felt his stomach twist sickeningly at that thought.  
  
That had been a bad thing to do, he was suddenly quite certain.  
  
A very bad thing.  
  
But...   
  
He still wasn't supposed to form attachments. He was supposed to maintain an appropriate distance. Attachments were dangerous, a liability...   
  
But he was already attached, wasn't he?  
  
Heero scuffed his sneakers on the scarred wood floor.  
  
"I don't know," he murmured softly, repeating his confession of the previous night. "I don't know what I'm doing."  
  
He pushed himself up off the bed and shoved a hand through his dark mop of hair. He didn't know what he was doing. But he knew what he had to do.  
  
Find Duo.  
  
Again.  
  
Apologize.  
  
Again.  
  
And perhaps, try to accept that things could not go back to being the way they were before. He wasn't supposed to form attachments. But he had.  
  
_Accept it. Deal with it._

Nobody else seemed to have much of a problem with the concept, after all.  
  
"Ninmu ryoukai," Heero muttered, setting his shoulders determinedly and striding out into the main room, ignoring Wufei's wary glance and Trowa's speculative gaze. He marched determinedly out the door, with never a pause to betray the fact that he had no idea where he was going.  
  
+  
  
Trowa flipped through the paper with a slightly triumphant smirk on his face. It had taken some time for the Japanese pilot to process Trowa's earlier speech, but it seemed to have had the desired effect. Heero had suddenly gone stomping out of the apartment with firm intent written all over his scowling face just a half-hour earlier. Trowa hoped Heero could locate Duo before this fiasco got any further out of hand. The histrionics were quite wearing on him in his exhaustion.  
  
Trowa gave a little sigh and felt the smirk fade. To himself, he supposed he could admit his concern went deeper than having to endure teenage theatrics. He didn't know if the others hadn't picked up on it because the change had been gradual, but to Trowa, who had been unconscious for several days, Duo's personality seemed to have undergone drastic alteration. The normally friendly, jovial boy had been very withdrawn and tense... in those few moments Trowa had actually seen Duo. He supposed he could be basing his observation on too little evidence - the times he had seen the American had been rather tense situations. But considering all that had happened, it didn't seem outside the realm of possibility that Duo had adopted a different persona. Rather like Trowa himself did when infiltrating Oz. Duo had adapted his behavior to his environment.  
  
Which, considering the behavior that was appropriate for this environment, was indeed cause for concern.  
  
He really hoped Heero managed to find Duo again. This time felt... worse than the last. Trowa had a very strong feeling that Duo really shouldn't be alone right now, and that an apology from Heero was very important at this point.  
  
Despite his harsh words to the Japanese boy earlier, and despite the fact that Heero really had done something incredibly cruel and stupid, Trowa hadn't given up all faith in Heero. The boy could be an amazing ass, but Trowa believed that deep down, somewhere, Heero really did have some feeling for Duo. All other considerations aside, the psychotically antisocial pilot certainly wouldn't permit, much less invite, physical contact from someone with whom he didn't feel some strong connection.  
  
So it looked like perhaps Heero was going to rise to the challenge after all.  
  
Of course, that still left Duo's reaction to worry about...   
  
Trowa started slightly at a quiet knock on the door. He frowned. It couldn't be Heero, he'd just left, and he wouldn't knock so diffidently. Quatre was asleep in his bedroom, wearied by the traumatic storm of emotions Duo had unleashed at breakfast. Wufei had gone up to the roof to meditate.  
  
Perhaps it was Wufei. There was only one key to the apartment, and it hung on a rusty nail beside the door. That way no one could lose it, or, if anyone was captured, it couldn't be used to trace the location of the others.  
  
Trowa considered yelling for Quatre. He was only barely mobile, and still somewhat unsteady... But the little blond had been so upset earlier, it was probably best for everyone if he just slept himself out.  
  
A cranky, petulant Quatre in a confined space was not good for anyone's nerves.  
  
Suppressing a groan, Trowa pushed himself to his feet and shuffled slowly to the door, wondering at the patience Wufei was displaying in not knocking again. Finally, he reached the panel, and briefly considered trying to get his gun out as Heero would.  
  
Then immediately decided that was silly. First of all, he wasn't sure he could even hold it up, and second of all, if the person on the other side wasn't one of the pilots, being greeted with a gun in the face was sure to rouse suspicions.  
  
Trowa pulled the door open and peered into the hall.  
  
He frowned slightly, thinking at first that it had been a prank or that the knocker had just decided no one was in and departed, but then he heard a small sniff from the direction of the floor. He looked down to see a familiar braid trailing in the dirt of the neglected hallway.  
  
He opened the door a bit further, and saw Duo huddled against the wall in a compact ball, his face pressed to his drawn up knees and arms wrapped around his legs. One hand was clutching Heero's tank top like it was his only anchor to reality.  
  
"Duo?" Trowa asked cautiously, not sure what reaction he would get from the boy.  
  
Duo's head jerked up, violet eyes too wide in the light of the bare bulb illuminating the hallway. He blinked rapidly, not seeming to notice the moisture forced from his eyes to roll down his cheeks by the movement. For a moment, they just stared at one another, then Duo murmured, so softly Trowa barely heard him, "Trowa... "  
  
Speech seemed to galvanize the American into action, and he pushed himself upright using the wall at his back. He took a hesitant step closer to the door, watching Trowa nervously all the while. "Tro? Can I... is it okay if I... could you... " Duo's faint speech trailed off into uncertainty, leaving Trowa with no coherent question to reply to, but facing a look of desperation in those wide violet eyes that absolutely required an answer.  
  
"Come inside," Trowa said calmly, keeping his gaze locked with Duo's. It was a command, not a request, although soft in tone, but it seemed to be the right thing to say, as Duo shuffled slowly forward, face relaxing in apparent relief.  
  
_Of course_ , Trowa thought. _No need to worry about whether or not I mean it, whether or not he's welcome. Just an order to follow. No responsibility, no consequences. Keep it simple, use a light touch_ , he advised himself as he moved aside to allow Duo to warily enter the apartment. He shut the door behind them both, noting Duo's slight flinch at the sound, and the sudden tension in the slender shoulders clearly defined by the tight black tee shirt he wore.  
  
"Where is... " After a moment's pause seemed to indicate Duo wasn't going to finish the question, Trowa quickly ran through the possibilities.  
  
"Quatre is napping. Wufei is up on the roof. Heero is... out." He wasn't sure whether or not he should tell Duo the Japanese boy was looking for him. On the one hand, it might make Duo feel better, but on the other hand, the American might decide he had to go find Heero. And Trowa was growing more certain by the minute, observing Duo's trembling body and the makeshift bag clutched in one white-knuckled hand, that under no circumstances should he let Duo leave his sight, much less the apartment.  
  
Duo seemed to react well to Trowa's report, though, some of the tension easing from his wiry muscles. Trowa idly wondered if Duo had always been so painfully slender under the bulky clothes he usually favored, or if he'd lost weight recently. Taking a calculated risk, he reached out and laid a gentle hand on Duo's shoulder.  
  
"It's been somewhat lonely. Sit with me?" he asked, keeping his voice conversational, but applying enough pressure to the shoulder that it still wasn't really a request. Duo would have to pull away to avoid sitting.  
  
Duo didn't pull away. He actually attempted to help Trowa back to the couch, but it quickly became apparent that neither of them was particularly steady on their feet, and inevitably, they got tangled up and collapsed.  
  
Duo was instantly apologetic, trying to push himself away, but when Trowa groaned as the American's flailing arm bounced off one of his wounds, Duo froze, afraid to move and possibly injure Trowa further.  
  
_Probably doesn't want to face the Wrath of Quatre_ , Trowa mused, trying not to grimace in pain, which would only make Duo feel worse. Instead, he took a moment to consider the position they found themselves in, and decided it was probably a fairly good arrangement for his purposes.  
  
He'd managed, somehow, to get turned around and had landed rather comfortably on his behind in the corner of the couch. One leg was pinned beneath Duo's body, which was half-sprawled across Trowa and the couch, but at least it wasn't his injured leg. He gently encouraged Duo to crawl up onto the couch the rest of the way, and not wanting to hurt Trowa, the boy complied, ending up curled next to the taller pilot with his head in Trowa's lap.  
  
This effort seemed to have just about exhausted Duo, and Trowa was feeling some strain himself. He was far from top condition. Trowa just sat there a moment, letting his body recover what little strength it had, one hand idly caressing Duo's ragged bangs.  
  
The American's hair was damp, his forehead slicked with chill sweat. Trowa could feel Duo's body shivering slightly where it was pressed against his own, although the smaller boy was almost feverishly warm. After a few minutes, the shivering began to recede a bit, until only the occasional tremor wracked the slight frame.  
  
As they sat there quietly, Trowa took the time to study Duo as he hadn't that morning. He had vaguely registered a few dark splotches on the boy's arms, but had been so distracted first by Duo's rarely seen fury and then by Heero's unconscionable actions, that he hadn't looked too closely. Now he could see Duo's arm was mottled with multiple bruises, from a large, dark palm-sized mark on his wrist, which also had scratches on it, to smaller, sickly green splotches that looked like fingermarks. But far worse than the arm was the portion of Duo's stomach revealed by the too-small shirt riding up. The boy's abdomen was stained almost black from the repeated pummeling he'd taken, the bruises outlined by that sickly green tone.  
  
Trowa frowned, slowly sliding his fingers over Duo's stomach, probing gently. He didn't seem to detect any unusual swelling or tightness, although it seemed practically a bona fide miracle for Duo not to have any internal bleeding. He supposed with sheer luck it was possible, though, and Duo almost certainly knew how to take a punch to avoid major damage.  
  
As Trowa considered this, he realized Duo had gone very still beneath his inquisitive exploration. As soon as he realized this, he froze as well, his fingers resting lightly just above the loose waistband of Duo's pants.  
  
"You can keep going if you want," Duo said quietly, his voice completely empty of emotion. It was such an artificial tone, and so very wrong coming from the outgoing American, that Trowa jerked his hand away in surprise.  
  
That had been a mistake, he discovered as Duo let out a small whimper and attempted to curl up into a little ball again, as he had been in the hallway.  
  
_Rejection_ , Trowa realized, cursing his reflexes. _He took that for rejection._

"Duo... " he murmured softly, wondering what he should say or do to repair the damage. "Duo, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... upset you... It's okay, Duo... It's going to be okay... "  
  
"No, it's _not_ ," Duo contradicted sharply, his muffled voice an odd combination of misery and anger. "It's _not_ fucking okay! It's never _been_ okay, and it's never gonna _be_ goddamn _okay_!"  
  
Trowa was at something of a loss. He wanted to soothe the troubled boy, but words had never been his strong suit. Biting his lip in frustrated concern, Trowa finally elected to ignore the pain of half-healed wounds as he dragged Duo's trembling body fully into his lap until the smaller boy's head was tucked neatly under Trowa's chin. Not knowing what would comfort Duo, Trowa just held him, gently stroking the sweat-dampened hair and murmuring softly in half-remembered French.  
  
Duo's fragile control shattered abruptly, and he wept against Trowa's neck, harsh, wracking sobs of desolation and hopelessness. The sounds tore at Trowa's heart as they awoke echoes of pain within himself. Trowa's past was no doubt somewhat different from Duo's, but still...   
  
There was something about Duo. There always had been. At first, Trowa had been nervous around the outgoing, always-smiling boy, rebuffing his friendly overtures coldly. He had believed his defensiveness was inspired by an ingrained distrust of people who smiled too much. But over time, as he came to know Duo better, he had realized what it truly was that had instinctively made him keep his distance from the garrulous American.  
  
Duo understood him.  
  
They had never discussed the matter beyond a few speaking looks that had confirmed Trowa's new suspicions. Duo had far more tact than that. Most wouldn't credit him with such, Trowa knew, but that was simply because Duo could only be bothered to be courteous over matters he felt deserved the effort.  
  
Duo, the only one of the pilots whose history bore any similarity to Trowa's own, understood the taller boy's silence and desire not to speak of irrelevant difficulties endured long ago. Less painful idiosyncrasies, however, such as Wufei's obsession with justice, were fair game for Duo's occasionally cutting wit.  
  
Trowa had eventually decided that while it unnerved him to know that there was one of the group who knew things about him... not specifics, but probably damn close approximations... it was also strangely comforting. There were moments when a situation would overwhelm him, when he just needed to get out, to be alone for a moment so he could breathe... and he soon came to realize that Duo almost always picked up on those moods. The braided boy was skilled at manipulating attention, and on more than one occasion, had put that talent to use to allow Trowa a graceful exit when he needed it most.  
  
He didn't have to explain, he didn't have to talk about it.  
  
Because Duo just... understood.  
  
Trowa frowned slightly, resting his chin on Duo's thick hair. That understanding, the unspoken commiseration, had been a precious gift. And now Duo needed his understanding in turn. Trowa felt he was on somewhat shaky ground, having no real experience with or understanding of drug addiction, but... for Duo, he had to try.  
  
He supposed that in the final analysis, all Duo might really need at the moment was someone to hold him, to reassure him that he wasn't alone, and just to accept, without judging, that Duo wasn't perfect. That he made mistakes, and that the life he'd led had been a difficult one to deal with. That sometimes... he couldn't deal with it.  
  
Trowa could do that.  
  
"It _will_ be all right," he declared firmly against the top of Duo's head.  
  
Duo responded with a noncommittal grunt. Trowa rested his cheek against the soft hair and began rubbing Duo's back with one hand. The smaller boy's trembling seemed to ease a bit more at the soothing caress.  
  
"I'm so tired, Tro," Duo murmured after a while, his voice conveying an exhaustion that was far more than merely physical. "I'm so tired of running and hiding and fighting and... fucking _trying_ so hard... I don't think I can keep going much longer... "  
  
"Then don't," Trowa replied calmly. He felt Duo stiffen beneath his touch, and wondered how the American had interpreted that statement. "You don't have to do anything right now, Duo. I'm here, you're safe. I'll watch over you. You just rest."  
  
"I'm sorry," Duo whispered miserably, his voice muffled as he buried his face against Trowa's chest. "I'm sorry... to ask this... "  
  
"You didn't ask. I offered," Trowa corrected him patiently. He wrapped his arms around the smaller pilot and gave him a brief hug before returning to his endless stroking of Duo's back. "Now sleep. Sleep, mon petit frere," Trowa murmured softly, not really concentrating on his words as he attempted to soothe his friend.  
  
Duo, however, released a little grunt of surprise. "Whadja... call me?" he slurred, weariness slowing his tongue.  
  
Trowa frowned slightly, trying to recall what he'd said. Then a small grin tilted his lips. "I called you... mon petit frere," he repeated softly, secure in the belief that Duo didn't speak French. _If Catherine can adopt me, I can adopt Duo, I suppose._

"Oh... 's nice... " Duo murmured sleepily. He then fell silent for a while, and Trowa thought he'd fallen asleep. But then the braided boy muttered, "Guess I could do worse fer a brother. But if ya'd called me a cabbage, I'da had ta slap ya fuckin' silly... " Trowa let out a snort of amusement and chagrin, but the soft snores Duo began emitting revealed that the braided boy had quickly dropped off after his last comment.  
  
_Never underestimate Shinigami_ , Trowa reminded himself ruefully.  
  
The smile soon faded from his face, though, as he considered the boy curled in his embrace.  
  
"It _will_ be all right," he whispered again, emerald eyes glinting with fierce determination. "I'll make sure of it." But the implacable expression slowly faded from his face as he considered all he knew of the situation. He shook his head slightly, then turned it to rest his cheek against Duo's hair again.  
  
"Somehow," he murmured apprehensively.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

He woke to a familiar sense of disorientation. The dull throbbing of his head and fine trembling of his fingers let him know that he'd gone a while without a fix.  
  
Frowning slightly, he carefully disentangled himself from the long-limbed body he was curled against. He spared his bedmate _\--_ _make that couchmate_ , he corrected himself wryly _\--_ only a cursory glance before rising.  
  
_Pretty_ , he thought in impersonal appraisal. He frowned at the bandages swathing the slender body in momentary confusion and concern, then shrugged and glanced around the small room he found himself in. _Nope, definitely not my little hole. I bet somebody actually pays rent on this place. Wonder if they've got hot water._ He sighed wistfully at the very notion, and planted his fists on his hips as he pondered tossing the place for valuables.  
  
Which was when he realized his fingers were painfully cramped from clutching at a green cloth bag.  
  
_Now what the hell... ?_ He pulled the bag open, noting as he did that it was actually some kind of garment being put to makeshift use. Peering inside, he let a pleased grin spread across his face.  
  
No wonder he'd been holding on so tight. Wouldn't want to lose _that_.  
  
He glanced at the young man on the couch again. The guy was probably only a few years older than himself, and looked like he'd been on the wrong end of a mugging. Something about that thought didn't sit right, though, and the boy felt a nagging sense of recognition as he studied the tall youth.  
  
Finally, he snorted in exasperation at himself. _Well, he oughta look familiar, if I was sleeping on top of him. I wonder how the hell I got here, though? Not like this guy called in an order..._ Pondering the mystery, he flexed his stiff fingers a few times and shoved his hand into his pocket.  
  
The wad of bills he found there quelled any further curiosity.  
  
_Hell, who the fuck cares how I got here? Whatever happened, it was sure as hell worth my while._

Chuckling to himself in satisfaction, he returned the money to his pocket and strolled down the short hall that his foggy memory seemed to indicate led to a bathroom. Sure enough, he found it, and closed the door behind him, noting the lack of a functional lock. _Oh well, I'll be quick._

After indulging in the almost sinful extravagance of washing his face and upper body, he pulled the tight shirt back on over the mass of ugly bruises. The sight had unsettled him a bit, making him wonder anew at what exactly he'd been doing lately. It was beginning to occur to him that he didn't have a very clear idea about the recent past, and that was somewhat troublesome. But seeing the bruises had made him aware of the pain they were causing, and that distracted him quite nicely from his concern.  
  
He really had to do something about the pain.  
  
Fortunately, he was prepared for that.  
  
He was just tying the latex strip around his biceps with a practiced twist of his fingers, the needle prepped and waiting on the edge of the sink, when the door swung open and a sleepy-eyed blond boy shuffled in.  
  
Seeing him seated on the toilet, the blond immediately froze and flushed bright red, sputtering nervously. "Oh, I'm so sorry Duo, I didn't mean to just burst in like... oh, my... Duo, what are you doing?" This last was delivered in a hushed, fearful whisper.  
  
Three thoughts floated through Duo's foggy mind at the intrusion of the vaguely familiar blond.  
  
The first was, _damn, must have been a party._

The second was, _why does he know my name?_

The third was, _why do I have the feeling it should really bother me for him to be looking at me like that?_

Of course, he supposed anyone would squirm under that teary-eyed, limpid gaze. The guy looked like a six-year-old who'd just seen the department store Santa pull off his beard for a quick slug of whiskey.  
  
Confused and unsettled by his reaction to the blond, Duo slapped a cocky grin on his face and attempted to bluster through the situation.  
  
"Hey, I'll be done in a minute, okay, pal? D'ya mind? I'd appreciate a little privacy."  
  
The wide, sea-blue eyes abruptly lost the shimmer of tears and acquired an angry spark.  
  
"I most certainly do mind! I will not permit you to poison yourself right in front of me," the blond declared firmly.  
  
Duo frowned, irritated by the guy's attitude, but... he didn't want a fight. And it was this guy's apartment... probably. And they had paid him well.  
  
He shrugged and snapped the latex off his arm, shoving it and the other odds and ends he'd pulled out back into the bag. The needle he grasped carefully in his right hand. The blond seemed to relax at his acquiescence, smiling with gentle approval.  
  
The smile abruptly disappeared as Duo slipped past him and moved quickly toward the apartment's door.  
  
"Duo! Wait! Where are you going?" the blond called, close on his heels. Duo instinctively dodged the hand that reached for his arm, turning to scowl at his pursuer, his back to the door. The blond backed off, blinking in surprise at Duo's expression.  
  
_Not so cooperative when the meter's not running, am I?_

"Duo?" The tall guy on the couch had woken up and was frowning at him in concern.  
  
"I wish you guys would stop using my name. It's kinda weird when I don't know yours," Duo muttered irritably. He clutched the needle tightly in his right hand, the shirt-bag in his left, and glanced warily back and forth between the two confused, concerned faces.  
  
"What do you mean, Duo? Of course you know our names. It's me, Quatre, and that's Trowa. We're your friends, your comrades... " That was the blond, looking painfully earnest. The tall boy just stared silently, hard green eyes coldly analyzing.  
  
That one was Trowa.  
  
Trowa was making Duo nervous.  
  
"Yeah, well, nice to meet ya and all. Maybe I'll see ya around," Duo muttered warily, his left hand scrabbling discretely for the door handle.  
  
"Quatre, don't let him leave," Trowa snapped. Duo cursed silently to himself as the blond was suddenly all business, cold and determined. Duo wondered nervously what he'd stumbled into. These guys were nothing like his usual customers.  
  
Still, he was no wide-eyed innocent himself. He might be only eleven, but that didn't mean he couldn't fight back. Quatre took a step forward, and Duo crouched defensively, raising the needle in his hand in clear threat.  
  
Quatre paled and drew back at the gesture, and Duo felt a moment of triumph as his hand finally found the doorknob. He knew he had to move fast. Quatre might have been fooled, but he would bet Trowa would twig pretty quick to the emptiness of the threat.  
  
Like he was going to waste his drugs on some random jerk.  
  
Even as he heard Trowa snapping a similar comment at the stunned Quatre, Duo whipped open the door, intending to make a break for it...   
  
And found himself face to face with a startled Chinese boy, hand raised to knock.  
  
"Wufei! Take him down! And watch out for the needle!"  
  
The Chinese boy's eyes narrowed at Trowa's command, and Duo didn't even have time to duck before callused fingers were digging into pressure points on the base of his neck, sending his thoughts spiraling into darkness. His last thought before losing consciousness was, _who the fuck are these guys, and how fucking many of them are there?_

+  
  
Heero could hear tense, hushed voices involved in an argument from the other side of the door. He'd finally decided he was just too damn tired to search for Duo any longer and made his weary way back to the apartment.  
  
It had taken him nearly an hour to skirt the mob of local cops and Oz troops swarming around the crime scene down the street.  
  
Heero had been cursing his own carelessness for several hours, and this development was just the icing on the cake. Not only had he idiotically mishandled the Duo Situation, he had also bungled the confrontation in the alley, and there was no excuse for that.  
  
He might not understand his emotions, or know how to deal with them, but he damn well knew how to clean up after himself.  
  
The damage was done now, though. Heero scowled at the door, guessing from the intensity of the discussion that someone else had also noticed the activity outside.  
  
He knocked, and there was utter silence from within. A moment later, the door was cracked open, and one narrowed black eye studied him through the slit. Wufei waited for Heero to tug twice at his left earlobe, the signal that he hadn't been followed, before dragging the Japanese pilot quickly inside.  
  
Heero scowled at the treatment, but decided not to make an issue of it. He glanced around the room and noted that yes, tensions were definitely running high, and also that Duo was curled in a tight ball on the couch beside Trowa, his back to the room.  
  
Heero was unsettled by the intensity of the relief he felt at seeing the American safely returned, but also by the troubled glances Quatre was shooting at the braided boy, and Wufei's abstracted frown as he gazed at Duo. Only Trowa seemed at ease with Duo's presence, but Heero could detect small signs of worry even on that stoic face.  
  
Obviously, something had happened.  
  
Heero desperately wanted to go sit in the space Quatre had left between himself and Duo on the couch. He wanted to wrap his arms around the slight body and comfort his friend... his... lover...   
  
But after his behavior earlier, Heero wasn't certain how Duo would react to such attention.  
  
So instead, he knelt beside the coffee table at Quatre's feet, where he could keep a close eye on the braided boy without risking his anger.  
  
Trowa frowned disapprovingly at him, but Heero wasn't sure if that was for his choice of seating or just leftover irritation from earlier. Trowa seemed to have just been generally pissed off at Heero practically since he'd regained consciousness.  
  
Heero frowned slightly to himself as he observed Trowa's hand rubbing gently at Duo's tense shoulder. It was unlike the quiet, reserved boy to make such a blatantly affectionate gesture.  
  
Perhaps Trowa's irritation had a deeper source than Heero's treatment of Duo.  
  
Perhaps the tall pilot was... jealous.  
  
Heero scowled, sharply derailing that unproductive train of thought. They had other things to worry about at the moment.  
  
"I'm assuming you've noticed the activity down the street," he remarked flatly, noting Quatre's worried frown, Trowa's weary smirk, and Wufei's huff of irritation.  
  
"I saw them from the roof," the Chinese pilot muttered. "They've been swarming down there for hours, and they don't show any signs of leaving. It's only a matter of time before Oz starts door-to-door inquiries."  
  
"They may not," Trowa commented with uncharacteristic optimism. Heero shot him an incredulous glance for the comment, but found Trowa's pensive stare locked on Duo's head, which was burrowed against his thigh. "Violent crimes are probably not terribly uncommon in this area, and the local law enforcement will probably recognize that Randall person. Their take on the whole scene will probably be that he was finished off by his competition. Such occurrences don't generally rate a very strenuous investigation. It's more of a public service than a crime."  
  
Heero grunted noncommittally, finding his own gaze drawn to Duo's tightly curled body. The American had regained his tee shirt from somewhere, and the fabric was bunched up just below his ribcage, revealing a few inches of pale skin and knobby vertebrae. Only a few bruises were visible on the boy's back, but Heero knew the front of his body was terribly discolored from abuse.  
  
Despite the danger he'd already put the group in by shooting the thugs who'd hurt Duo, Heero wished he could go back and do it over again. This time, he'd make it a lot more messy and painful.  
  
"It doesn't matter what the local police decide on the matter. Oz will not be restrained by their conclusions," Wufei stated flatly. "They know we're here somewhere. They're not going to let any potential lead go without investigating thoroughly."  
  
"We need to get out of here," Heero concluded grimly. It was too soon to move, really. They'd only been in hiding about a week, and obviously surveillance was still sharply focused on the area. But if Oz began searching every rat hole in the neighborhood, and Heero agreed with Wufei that such thoroughness was inevitable, there was no way they could escape discovery. Especially with Trowa and Duo, the two most likely to be able to finesse their way around such a problem, out of commission. Heero wasn't entirely certain what damage his thoughtless actions had done to Duo, but it was obvious from the way Trowa was hovering over the boy, and the occasional dirty glances he was throwing Heero, that Duo was not in top condition at the moment.  
  
"Our best bet is to create a distraction," Quatre murmured softly. Heero riveted his attention on the blond boy. For all that Quatre looked innocuous, and was occasionally bafflingly softhearted, he could be ruthlessly pragmatic when it came to strategy. If there was a way to get them out of this city undiscovered, Quatre could devise it. The rest of them would just have to manage to carry out the plan.  
  
"I can get to Nataku. That will certainly provide a distraction," Wufei offered.  
  
Quatre nodded slowly, but he was still frowning. "Maybe not enough of one, though," he murmured.  
  
"What do you mean?" Heero demanded.  
  
Quatre turned his pensive frown on Heero. "They know we're here. As soon as Wufei attacks, they'll certainly divert a lot of their manpower to defending against him, but they'll probably just clamp down harder on the city as well. They'll expect us to try to sneak out under that cover. What we really need... " The Arabian frowned, pondering the problem for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was so soft Heero wondered if he were merely thinking aloud. "What we really need is another attack, at the same time, somewhere completely different... "  
  
"We could try to contact Sally Po, ask her rebels to attack simultaneously... " Wufei offered reluctantly.  
  
Quatre shook his head. "No, first of all, we can't take the risk of contacting anyone, they could still trace our communications. And it won't really do any good for an outside force to attack. They'll still know we're here."  
  
Heero frowned. "But all our Gundams are here. We all concealed them within five klicks of the base, and that's two klicks from this city. Even if we could get somebody out of the city, there's no Gundam to attack with on the other side of the world."  
  
"So take Deathscythe," a quiet, muffled voice offered into the tense silence.  
  
Heero's eyes immediately snapped to Duo's back, but the American hadn't moved, although it was now obvious he was wide awake and listening to the discussion.  
  
"Duo... " Quatre murmured, concern and contempt warring on his features. Heero was suddenly glad Duo had his back turned. "You're not really up to piloting right now... "  
  
"I know," Duo replied flatly to the veiled criticism. Heero noted the tenseness of the slender shoulders. "So somebody else will have to do it. But you'll need Deathscythe. He... It's the only Gundam with sophisticated enough ECMs to let you slip away without being detected. If you move at night, they'll never have a chance of seeing you. And it's fast, it'll get you far away pretty quickly." After this speech, another heavy silence descended on the group. Although on rare occasions, some of them had used one another's Gundams, they were all rather irrationally attached to their own. And Duo almost seemed to regard Deathscythe as a partner more than a machine of destruction. For him to offer it's use to another pilot demonstrated a great trust in them.  
  
It would be foolish to refuse Duo's offer. Not only that, but Heero suddenly realized that to do so would probably hurt the American just as much as, if not more than, Heero's stupidity of that morning.  
  
"I'll go. I'll take Deathscythe," Heero declared firmly, determined that he would not allow any more of Duo's sacrifices to go unappreciated.  
  
"No, you won't," Trowa told him flatly. Heero glowered at the tall boy. What was Trowa doing? Didn't he understand... ?  
  
Heero's glower slowly faded under that penetrating green gaze. Of course Trowa understood. He understood Heero's desire not to let Duo's offer be disregarded... and he understood Heero's desire to avoid the unpleasant situation he'd created.  
  
Heero sighed heavily, but nodded in consent to Trowa's statement.  
  
"I'll take Deathscythe," Quatre stated. "Thank you, Duo. That should allow me to get a considerable distance away without alerting Oz. If we synchronize our attacks... say, five hours after we leave the city, Wufei?" The Chinese boy nodded in acceptance of the plan. Quatre nodded as well, to himself. He rose from his seat, glancing around the little group. His gaze lingered on Trowa and Duo, curled together on the couch. Heero noted a strange little downward twist to Quatre's usually smiling mouth. That expression spoke of jealousy. Not surprising, but possibly a dangerous factor for the future.  
  
Wufei stood as well, his eyes resting on Duo with an expression of worried concern. Wufei seemed to be reacting better, and with more compassion, to Duo's pain than Quatre. That was odd. Heero filed the thought away for later consideration.  
  
"Trowa... and Duo... probably shouldn't be moved too far," Quatre observed after a moment. He looked over at Heero. "My family owns a small house in the mountains about 100 klicks east of the city. I'll give you directions."  
  
Heero nodded in acceptance.  
  
"Well, it's not likely to get any easier to do this the longer we wait," Quatre muttered, heading for his bedroom to pack. Wufei followed, pausing briefly to lay a hand on Heero's shoulder in silent support and commiseration. Heero found himself oddly touched by the gesture, and wondered what had happened to the hardened soldier who would have brushed the hand away with a scowl.  
  
Shaking his head at himself, Heero headed for his own room. He had himself and Duo to pack for, after all.  
  
+  
  
Heero glanced away from the winding, two-lane road at the boy slumped beside him in the stolen car's passenger seat. A moment's assessment was all he required, having observed Duo frequently in this state.  
  
"He's asleep," Heero quietly informed Trowa.  
  
The wounded pilot shifted in the darkness of the backseat, across which he was sprawled. He grunted softly, either in acknowledgment of Heero's statement or from jarring his wounds with the motion. Heero glanced in the rear view mirror, but all he could see in the back was a shadow with long, jagged bangs.  
  
"When did he get back to the apartment?" Heero finally asked, once it had become clear that Trowa was not going to volunteer information.  
  
"Not long after you left," Trowa answered softly. Heero tapped his foot on the brake pedal, slowing the car so he could hear Trowa over the rush of wind through the open window. Duo might have had the skills and knowledge to jimmy the car's door lock, but circumstances being what they were, it had been Heero who'd gone foraging for a vehicle. And while the Japanese pilot knew a multitude of exotic ways to kill a person, he only knew one way to break into a car. Hence the lack of a driver's side window.  
  
Not that it was entirely a bad thing, since the air conditioner didn't work anyway. But the rushing air made it hard to hold a hushed conversation, and Heero really didn't want to wake Duo up.  
  
Not after the silent glares he'd received from the American until he'd finally nodded off.  
  
"He... was pretty shaky, then. I got him to come inside... I knew he shouldn't leave, but... That damn bag. I knew I should have taken it away, but I fell asleep right after he did... " Trowa shook his head and sighed.  
  
Heero frowned. "What bag?" he demanded.  
  
The Japanese pilot could feel Trowa's hard green stare rest on him, though he couldn't see the other boy's eyes. After a long pause, Trowa finally answered. "He was carrying... I suppose it was your shirt, tied up into a bundle. I could tell from the way he was hanging onto it, so tight his hand was shaking, that it was probably trouble. And I was right."  
  
And then, infuriatingly, Trowa fell silent again.  
  
"What was in it? What the hell happened?" Heero finally demanded, his grip on the cheap plastic of the wheel growing slick with nervous sweat. Something had happened, he was sure of it now. The tension he'd walked in on had been due to more than Oz's reappearance.  
  
Trowa sighed again, sounding terribly weary. Which he no doubt was. But Heero was not willing to let this topic go. He had to know what was going on.  
  
"He had heroin. And all the standard paraphernalia," Trowa muttered flatly. "He woke up before I did, and I guess I was too worn out to be woken up by him crawling off me. Wufei wasn't back yet, and Quatre was in his room, so... Duo went to the bathroom and... Well, if Quatre hadn't walked in when he did, things might have gotten even more difficult than they already are," Trowa concluded grimly.  
  
Heero sucked air through his teeth, grimacing slightly at what Trowa's words implied. "But... what I saw... I know he didn't choose to start using again. That son of a bitch... Duo didn't _want_ it, Trowa, I _know_ that... " Heero protested harshly.  
  
"Yes, I agree with you on that, Heero. But... when he woke up earlier... " Trowa paused, shaking his head and sighing heavily. "How do I explain this? I don't really understand what happened myself, but... When Duo woke up earlier, Heero, he... didn't, really."  
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Heero demanded, more sharply than he meant to.  
  
Trowa shifted in the back again, fairly radiating confused discomfort. "It was... really strange, Heero. He seemed to be acting like himself, according to Quatre, but then... Then he told us it was weird that we kept calling him by name when he didn't know ours."  
  
"But he knows your names," Heero argued.  
  
Trowa sighed again. "I told you, I don't really understand what happened, but... I really think, that at that moment, Duo didn't know us."  
  
"How the hell could he not know you?" Heero demanded. The steering wheel creaked ominously beneath his white-knuckled grip, and he forced his fists to loosen. They still had a bit of distance to travel, and there weren't any other vehicles to be found along this deserted stretch of road.

"I hadn't met them yet," Duo said quietly.

Heero bit back a curse and barely managed to keep himself from jerking the wheel in surprise. He'd been certain Duo was asleep.  
  
"Duo?" Trowa asked gently, recovering from the surprise more quickly than Heero. "What do you mean, you hadn't met us?"  
  
Duo shifted slightly in his seat, curling into a tighter ball. After a long silence, he murmured hesitantly, "Well... I don't really remember the whole thing too clearly, but... what I do remember is not knowing you or Quatre or Wu... I didn't know where I was, or how I'd gotten there... and... "  
  
"And?" Trowa prompted when the silence stretched.  
  
Duo leaned his head against the window with a sigh. "And... well, I'm pretty sure I remember thinking something about being... eleven," he muttered.  
  
Trowa leaned back against his seat, his lips pursed nervously in the darkness. He could see Heero's face, lit by the dashboard lights, as the Japanese boy cast him worried glances via the rearview mirror. Heero was obviously very confused and upset about this whole situation, but Trowa couldn't think of anything he could say or do to reassure the Japanese boy at the moment. At least it seemed to have not yet occurred to Heero that Duo represented a potential danger to the mission at this point. Trowa wasn't about to point that out.  
  
Duo heaved another unhappy sigh, and Trowa felt a sharp stab of relief that the braided boy had revealed himself to be awake before Trowa could go on to rehash the little... conversation he and Quatre and Wufei had had after Wufei knocked Duo out.  
  
Of course, he was beginning to consider the possibility that Duo had been playing possum at that time as well. Which could lead to all sorts of difficulties.  
  
Quatre had been quite flustered and unsettled at being threatened with a needle full of heroin by one of his best friends. Quatre had been forced to endure several shocks to his system over the course of their little sojourn in the slums, and this last bit of trauma had caused the pampered blond to snap.  
  
Not that Quatre wasn't tough, in his way. He was a good fighter, and an excellent strategist. But the boy had grown up in the lap of luxury, the adored, and, Trowa believed, somewhat spoiled Winner heir. No matter his dedication to the cause, Quatre just wasn't accustomed to sharing a cramped living space with four other boys, rationing food and water, dealing with other people's problems and idiosyncrasies on a daily basis...   
  
Trowa hadn't been surprised at Quatre's harsh words. Wufei, he thought, _had_ been somewhat surprised. The Chinese boy had stared at Quatre in wide-eyed amazement as the little blond spat invectives at Duo's limp body curled at Trowa's side. Trowa was also certain his own insistence on having Duo near him, and the fact that he had been unconsciously rubbing the smaller boy's back, had probably contributed to Quatre's ire. He didn't know if Wufei had realized that or not. But after a few minutes of listening to Quatre vent his spleen at the American, Wufei's sense of justice had spurred him to defend Duo.  
  
Trowa hadn't been bothering to say anything, because he thought Quatre was being ridiculous, and would eventually run out of steam.  
  
Wufei, while not willing to completely excuse Duo of all fault, was quite firm in denying Quatre's harsher statements. While the Chinese boy was obviously ill at ease with Duo's ‘weakness', he was at least trying to be fair, rather than just lashing out at the most obvious target with his own unresolved frustration. Trowa admired that.  
  
In a last ditch effort to return some rationality to the discussion, Wufei had abruptly shifted the topic to the police and Oz activity he'd spotted up the street. After a moment's irritated glowering at the two who refused to feel sympathy for the poor, beleaguered Arabian, Quatre had heaved a mighty sigh at the unfairness of life and they'd begun wrangling over what to do next instead of whose fault it was they were stuck in this unpleasant situation.  
  
Trowa was pretty sure Duo had stayed unconscious until around that point.  
  
At least, he hoped so.  
  
Trowa shook his head wearily. At least Quatre was out of the picture for a while. The Arabian was normally the peacekeeper among them, the one who tried to smooth things over and make the best of a bad situation. But right now, any more of Quatre with his soft little hands and disapproving frown, or worse, his pleading, vapid stares, would have driven Trowa to violence.  
  
He shifted again in his seat, trying vainly to find a position that didn't tug at his stitches. He knew he'd pulled several out in the arduous process of getting down to the street and around the corner to the car. Duo had helped him as much as possible, but the American was not in great shape himself at the moment. They'd made it, finally, and Duo and Heero had helped Trowa into the back seat.  
  
Trowa had watched the two of them, working together with their customary quiet efficiency, but an almost amusing reversal of emotional undertones. Heero was watching Duo, radiating concern and confusion, and it was the Japanese boy's hands that fluttered nervously, almost touching his silent partner. Duo just kept shooting Heero angry or irritated glares, only speaking to him once, and then only to snap at him for not focusing on the task at hand.  
  
Yes, under better circumstances, it might have been funny.  
  
Trowa let his eyes slide shut, feeling exhaustion inexorably dragging him into the darkness of sleep. A part of him fought to stay awake, wanting to chaperone his two rather unstable companions. He wasn't certain what sort of mayhem could ensue from leaving the two of them to talk unsupervised, but... well, he didn't really seem to have much choice in the matter.  
  
Still, he fought against sleep for a while, until he heard soft snores drifting back from Duo's side of the car. A final glance at the rear view mirror revealed Heero watching the American more than the road, an oddly softened expression on his face.  
  
Trowa shut his eyes again and decided to rest while the opportunity presented itself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Trowa's eyelids drooped heavily, the slow rocking of the porch swing he was stretched across soothing him into sleep in the warmth of the afternoon. A thunderstorm two days earlier had finally broken the oppressive heat wave, but it was definitely still summer, the temperature hovering somewhere in the eighties. He sighed contentedly, savoring the rare moment of quiet solitude... until he heard the faint rustling of fabric at the far end of the porch.  
  
With another sigh, this one far less content, Trowa forced his tired eyes to slide open on the familiar sight of a brooding Duo Maxwell.  
  
For the first three days after they'd come to this... cabin, Trowa supposed he should call it. It was definitely not a house. Closer to a shack, really. It seemed to get smaller every day. At any rate, for the first three days, Duo had done little but sleep and stare morosely at the wall of his small bedroom. There were only two bedrooms upstairs, along with a small bathroom, and Trowa had the other one. Heero got the couch this time.  
  
When Duo had roused from his dark mood enough to come downstairs on the fourth day, Heero had made what for him were friendly overtures.  
  
Duo had snarled and snapped, his violet eyes burning with unmistakable ire. Heero had been surprised and confused, but had been smart enough to back off.  
  
He kept trying, though. The fifth night had been the worst, Trowa reflected, watching Duo carefully stripping the petals of some hapless plant. The fifth night, Heero had attempted to get off the couch. The sound of Duo's door slamming had woken Trowa from a welcome, sound sleep with the thought that someone had fired a gun. He'd jumped out of bed, almost pulling a few stitches loose in the process, and pulled open his own door, only to find Heero staring at Duo's closed door with a hurt, bewildered expression on his face.  
  
As soon as he noticed Trowa, Heero resumed his usual blank expression. A brief explanation was given in Heero's usual monotone, then the Japanese boy went back downstairs to his couch.  
  
Unfortunately, the rest of the night was not peaceful. Trowa wasn't sure if Heero's late-night visit had been some sort of trigger, or if Duo was just finally recovering from his earlier complete exhaustion, but that night marked the end of Duo's restful sleep. Several times that night, and for the three nights since then, Duo had woken up screaming from nightmares he refused to discuss with his tired housemates.  
  
The lack of sleep had Heero even edgier than the cold shoulder Duo had been giving him earlier. Now Duo's fits of temper were interspersed with bouts of brooding withdrawal, and Heero obviously had no idea how to deal with either. Duo wasn't acting like the bouncy, relentlessly cheerful boy they'd all come to know and grit their teeth against smacking.  
  
Seeming to feel Trowa's sleepy stare, Duo turned to look at the taller boy, absently dropping the denuded flower to the worn boards of the porch.  
  
Trowa suspected that this particular Winner residence had been acquired for the land it sat on rather than the building's rustic charm.  
  
Duo walked slowly across the porch, his bare feet making no sound against the boards as he moved. The tired, gray wood creaked and groaned beneath even Duo's slight weight, though. Duo grimaced slightly at the noise that betrayed his movements, even though there was no one around except Heero and Trowa. Some habits were just ingrained.  
  
Trowa rolled that last thought around in his mind as he watched Duo slowly pace across the length of the porch, noting the subtle rolling motion of his hips, the almost predatory glide to his steps... The full lips were quirked in a secretive little smirk, the violet eyes dark beneath heavy lids...   
  
Trowa shifted a bit uncomfortably on the swing. He had the irrational urge, when Duo was still a few feet away, to tell him that that was far enough.  
  
He didn't, of course. It was only Duo, someone he trusted. But some habits were ingrained.  
  
Duo didn't stop until he stood right in front of the swing, close enough that Trowa could feel the heat from the American's slender body waxing and waning against his own skin as the swing moved slowly, disturbed by his earlier movement. Duo just stood there for a while, smirking down at him. Finally, Trowa raised a questioning eyebrow.  
  
"How are your wounds doing?" Duo asked conversationally, still not moving back out of Trowa's personal space.  
  
Trowa shifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. "Healing," he answered briefly. He'd been close to Duo on several occasions, recently, since the braided boy would not allow Heero to soothe him from his nightmares. But right now, there was just something... odd about Duo's behavior. Trowa wished he would move back, just a little, just so the tall boy could breathe easier.  
  
"That's good," Duo murmured. "Soon you'll be back in top condition, huh?" He flashed a bright, and, Trowa thought nervously, patently false smile.  
  
"I suppose," Trowa said slowly, wondering what Duo was up to. What he was thinking. There was something going on behind those midnight eyes...   
  
Duo reached out a slender hand and gently brushed Trowa's hair back from his face. Trowa shivered slightly at the unexpected touch. Cuddling in the dark had been one thing, with Duo shaking in fear and clinging desperately to Trowa's pajamas, but this... While there was nothing overtly sexual about the gesture, Duo seemed to imbue it with the promise of more intimate caresses...   
  
Trowa shivered again, and watched the flash of uncertainty in Duo's dark eyes.  
  
Trowa cursed silently to himself. He should have been expecting something like this, but he thought of Duo as a friend, a little brother...   
  
Duo slowly ran his tongue across his upper lip, his eyes intent on Trowa's as he gently traced the line of the taller boy's jaw with light fingers.  
  
"I can help you get back in shape... if you want... " Duo offered softly, bending slowly over Trowa as he spoke. He continued to watch Trowa's eyes intently.  
  
It didn't take a great deal of intelligence to know what Duo was driving at, and what he intended to do. The difficult part of the situation for Trowa was figuring out what _he_ should do.  
  
He didn't want what Duo was offering. But to reject the boy, at this point in Duo's recovery...   
  
It wasn't hard to figure out that Duo was probably dealing with a lot of shame at the moment. If he'd been comfortable with all of his friends knowing about his... night job, he would've openly discussed it with them. Trowa clearly recalled Wufei's shock and Quatre's dismay when Heero had brought Duo home that one night. What had been an obvious conclusion to Trowa as soon as he had been told about Duo's strange schedule had obviously not even occurred to the other, less streetwise boys.  
  
But it _had_ occurred to Trowa. Trowa had not been surprised, or upset, by Duo's appearance the night Heero carried him home.  
  
So it was only natural that Duo had come to him for help at first, as the only one who understood enough about how the world worked not to condemn him out of hand. And again, it was only natural that Duo would turn to him for further reassurance...   
  
Trowa felt trapped. If he rejected Duo's advances, he would reinforce the self-disgust Duo had to be feeling. But... if he allowed Duo to continue...   
  
While Trowa had been musing about Duo's motives and intentions, life had carried on without him. He was snapped out of his reverie by the gentle pressure of Duo's mouth against his own.  
  
Trowa froze instantly at the contact, not daring to pull away for Duo's sake, not willing to participate for his own. Confused and torn, he simply sat there as Duo's lips moved gently against his, the sensation not completely unpleasant, but decidedly unsettling.  
  
After what felt like hours, Trowa began to wonder if Duo was ever going to break the kiss. As the braided boy's tongue probed gently but meaningfully against the barrier of Trowa's tightly clenched teeth, the taller boy opened his eyes, trying to see the look on Duo's face.  
  
Duo's eyes were narrowed, but definitely open.  
  
And definitely not looking at Trowa.  
  
Trowa tried to roll his eyes to see what Duo was looking at, but in his surprise at discovering Duo's distraction, he allowed his jaw to slacken, and Duo immediately took advantage of the sudden lack of resistance. The braided boy's tongue plundered Trowa's mouth, not really aggressively, but with a determined thoroughness. Duo's concentration might not be fully on Trowa, but his body was obviously accustomed to running this show without his direct attention.  
  
For a moment Trowa was too stunned and confused to fight back, but then he suddenly realized what Duo must be looking at. The only thing in that direction was the cabin itself, and the only interesting feature was the window directly behind them...   
  
He didn't have to crane his neck to know Heero was watching.  
  
It required a conscious effort on Trowa's part not to savagely bite Duo's tongue as he shoved the smaller boy away from him, hastily wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.  
  
Duo's triumphant smirk faded quickly into a dismayed frown at Trowa's actions. So testing for rejection had been at least a part of what had just happened. Trowa found that right at that moment, he really didn't care. He glared at the American, and Duo slowly wilted under his cold regard, having the grace to look guilty at least.  
  
"I don't appreciate being used in your little games," Trowa informed Duo coldly.  
  
Duo frowned nervously, fidgeting with the end of his braid. "Oh, come on, Tro... It wasn't like that... "  
  
"It wasn't?" Trowa demanded flatly.  
  
Duo shifted his weight uncomfortably, dropping his gaze to his bare feet. "Well, okay, maybe a little," he admitted. He sighed heavily, shoving a hand into his hair with a jerky motion that betrayed his edginess. "I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have done that, but... Hell, Trowa, he's gotten so much from me lately! I've given him so much, like an idiot... I just wanted to take something back, and... "  
  
"And so you took it from me?" Trowa asked calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. A part of him understood Duo's motivations, but another, much larger part, was hurt and frightened that someone he had trusted, had thought of as a friend, would try to use him like that.  
  
"No!" Duo denied vehemently, wide violet eyes snapping up to meet Trowa's. Duo seemed horrified at the suggestion. "It was just... he... he hurt me, Tro. And I guess I... I just wanted... "  
  
"To hurt him back," Trowa finished, refusing to allow Duo to hide from his own petty desires. Duo sighed unhappily, but nodded, accepting Trowa's words. Trowa considered letting the matter rest at that, but... Duo had unsettled him. Badly. Had put a sudden strain on a friendship that Trowa had thought was blossoming nicely into one of the best he'd ever enjoyed. Now he had to question everything about their relationship, and that was upsetting to him.  
  
"So you hurt me to hurt him," Trowa summed up succinctly, watching Duo flinch at his words. For a moment it looked like the American would protest, but then he just subsided with a sigh, shoulders hunching inwards.  
  
"Yeah, okay, Tro. You're right. I am that much of a scumbag," Duo muttered, wrapping his arms tightly around himself and turning away from Trowa.  
  
Trowa cursed under his breath. He was still angry and a bit nervous, but... Duo was still so damn fragile. And just maybe... he hadn't really intended to hurt Trowa. Maybe...   
  
"You're not a scumbag. You're just an idiot," Trowa muttered, loud enough for Duo to hear. The braided boy glanced over his shoulder hopefully. Trowa frowned, shaking his head slowly. "Don't ever do that again," he cautioned.  
  
Duo frowned slightly, turning back toward the swing. "You didn't like it?" he asked, sounding surprised at the idea.  
  
A vain idiot, Trowa silently amended. He shook his head again. "No, sorry to burst your bubble, but I did not enjoy that, Duo."  
  
Duo's frown deepened. "But... I thought... I mean, Quatre... "  
  
Trowa cursed inventively, scowling at the surprised American. "What Quatre does not seem to grasp, or you either, apparently, is that there are some people in the world that aren't interested in boys," Trowa stated flatly.  
  
"Yeah, they're called lesbians," Duo replied without missing a beat.  
  
Trowa stared at him in shock for a moment, then couldn't help sighing in weary amusement. Duo smiled sheepishly, blushing slightly. "Sorry," he muttered, "couldn't resist. I get what you're saying though. I'm sorry, man, I didn't think... Well, I guess that pretty much sums it up. I didn't think." Duo sighed, shaking his head.  
  
"You should try it sometime. Vastly underrated," Trowa advised. He watched Duo for a while, then finally asked, "So, now that you've gotten your pound of flesh out of Heero, what's next?"  
  
Duo snorted irritably. "Heero and I aren't even close to being square, Tro. I don't know if I can even explain to you how I felt when he... " Duo shook his head, his face pale. "I really don't even want to talk about it. But it's gonna be a while before I can forgive him... if I can forgive him." Duo was silent for a moment, then muttered something under his breath. Trowa was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear it, but it sounded suspiciously like, "At least he apologized the first time."  
  
Duo abruptly shook off his melancholy and offered a rather faded imitation of his usual cheerful grin. "That's enough of this introspection-on-the-porch crap. I'm going in for some food. You want anything?"  
  
Trowa shook his head. All he wanted was to sit and quietly ponder all the things Duo had just told him... and the things Duo hadn't told him.  
  
And, he admitted, he also wanted to be by himself for a while. Duo's actions had truly upset him quite a bit. It wasn't the first time he'd been... hit on by a guy, but it was the first time the guy had been someone he trusted enough to let them get past his guard. The first time the unwanted attentions had come from a friend.  
  
Probably because he hadn't really had friends before, but still...   
  
Trowa settled back in the swing, setting it into gentle motion with the movement of his body.  
  
Eventually it occurred to him that the door a few feet away was the only way out of the very small cabin, and that Duo had entered it, and Heero had not come out of it.  
  
Which meant they were in there together.  
  
Trowa put aside his confusion with a wicked little smirk. For the first time in days, he found himself eagerly awaiting the next explosion.  
  
Maybe he shouldn't have scolded Duo quite so harshly for his less than noble motives. Trowa found he wanted to get something back at the moment himself.  
  
+  
  
Heero firmly repressed the instinctive flinch when he heard the door behind him open. He remained sitting completely still on the couch, facing away from the front door of the cabin and the small kitchen area it opened into. Heero stared determinedly at the large salmon mounted above the fireplace on the back wall of the cabin, noting the brief hesitation in the steps of the person entering the cabin. The steps then continued, a little louder than was really necessary.  
  
Duo, then.  
  
Heero's eyes narrowed angrily, his teeth grating together as he recalled the scene he'd just witnessed out on the porch. It was bad enough that Duo was barely civil to Heero in his more mellow moments these days, but the thought that Duo's rejection of his clumsy advances was caused not merely by anger at Heero, but because Duo had found someone he preferred...   
  
A vein throbbed at Heero's temple.  
  
Duo was puttering loudly in the kitchen, probably making himself lunch.  
  
Heero considered just staying there on the couch. It was probably the most sensible thing he could do at this point.  
  
His fingers clenched around the wad of fabric in one hand.  
  
He stood and turned to face the kitchen.  
  
Duo paused briefly in his construction of a massive sandwich, dark violet eyes fastening on Heero with the wariness of a cornered animal. After a brief moment, that haunted look was replaced by a simmering rage that had become familiar over the past week.  
  
Heero scowled at the American. He knew he should just leave the whole mess alone, but...   
  
He walked around the couch, moving toward the kitchen and a suddenly tense Duo, carefully concealing the thing he carried behind the line of his thigh.  
  
Duo's grip on the large butcher knife shifted slightly, but then the American frowned and carefully set the potentially deadly weapon down on the table, almost out of his reach. Apparently, he didn't trust himself not to hurt Heero if the opportunity presented itself. Heero smirked at the ostentatious melodrama.  
  
As Duo had just conclusively proven on the porch, he didn't need a knife to cut Heero to the bone.  
  
"Moving on to greener pastures?" Heero growled, irritated at the bitterness that leached into his voice despite his best efforts to control it.  
  
Duo shrugged noncomittally, his lip lifting in a slight sneer. "Maybe," he replied coolly. "At least I wouldn't have to tell him where to put it."  
  
Heero felt his cheeks burn a bit at the jibe. It was the last straw. Duo had been nasty and cold to him for days, and damned if he could figure out why. Yes, Heero knew he'd done something stupid, but he understood that now, he regretted it... what did Duo want, for him to grovel on his knees? That wasn't going to happen. He was starting to understand what Dr. J had meant about hormones causing problems with focus. Duo had him so turned around he didn't know which way was up without even trying. But enough was enough. Heero would be pushed only so far before he started pushing back.  
  
"Good thing I brought this along," Heero muttered, flinging the wad of fabric at Duo. "Guess you'll still be needing it."  
  
Duo reflexively grabbed the object flying at his face, staring at it in confusion for a moment. Then a look of grim fury slowly spread across his face as he stretched it out between his hands, glowering at the sparkly purple mesh shirt he'd worn on the streets.  
  
Heero felt a cold, nasty smile settle on his face, watching the rage ignite and burn in Duo's dark eyes. He stepped closer, closing the distance between them, wracking his brain for one last, cutting remark to complete his victory. He knew it was petty and somewhat cruel, baiting Duo like this, but it felt so damn good to make the American angry. The impotent, frustrated rage that had been festering inside Heero ever since that night Duo had slammed the door in his face had finally found an outlet. It was only fair that Duo should experience that wordless fury, too. Justice, as Wufei would say.  
  
And Heero had theorized that if they both got angry enough, they could just scream at each other for a while, work out all the unproductive rage, and then they could be comfortable together again. He'd chosen a bad time to push their relationship forward, but if they could just reset it to the familiar competitive closeness, maybe they could get it right the next time...   
  
Heero wasn't prepared for the liquid shimmering in those narrow, furious eyes when Duo turned to glare at him. Or for the hurt so clearly mixed in with the anger.  
  
Rack up another mission failure.  
  
He hadn't wanted to _hurt_ Duo... He _never_ wanted to hurt Duo... But he just kept doing it...   
  
Heero cursed silently to himself, his face settling into a frustrated scowl as he stepped closer to Duo, concern and guilt now hurrying his approach.  
  
"Duo... " he began hesitantly, not sure what he would say, what he _could_ say, since he wasn't really sure what he'd done wrong _this_ time... He'd try apologizing for the shirt, that seemed a likely possibility. "Duo," he began again, more firmly.  
  
Duo tossed the shirt straight at Heero's head. He instinctively grabbed for it, just as Duo had done... and left himself wide open and vulnerable to the savage right hook he never saw coming.  
  
Heero staggered backwards from the blow. It had been strong, Duo always hit harder than he looked like he should be able to, but normally it wouldn't have fazed Heero much. It was the surprise that made him stagger backwards until his back hit the wall next to the stairs... And he continued to be surprised when he felt the wall give way behind him, and fell into darkness...   
  
Thud.

_Itai..._

Thud.

_Itai..._

Thud.

_Itai ­_

**Crash!**

Sharp, stabbing pain, different from the dull impact of bouncing down stairs. He felt cold ground beneath his body, and wetness spreading around him...   
  
Distantly, someone was calling his name in a panicked voice...   
  
Then there was only blackness.

+  
  
Trowa's eyes flew open with a silent curse as he heard a loud crash and Duo frantically yelling Heero's name.  
  
Either Heero had finally snapped and was trying to kill Duo, or Duo had lashed out a bit more violently than he'd meant to.  
  
"Oh God, Trowa, help! He's not _moving_!" Duo wailed, from what seemed like very far away. Or perhaps...   
  
Trowa walked into the kitchen, the stiffness nearly gone from his wounded leg, and immediately noted the dark rectangle in the wall next to the stairs. His second theory had been correct. Duo was not far away, but underground. Trowa sighed. So the cabin had a root cellar.  
  
"Trowa!" Duo yelled again, sounding more unhinged by the moment. Trowa frowned slightly. He was not thrilled with Duo at the moment, but he supposed it was possible that Heero had been badly injured. He walked over to the dark portal in the wall, studying the mangled latch briefly.  
  
"Trowa! Help me... I can't fucking _see_ anything, and he's not _moving_... I didn't mean to hit him that hard, Trowa, I swear... God... everything's _wet_ , he's _dripping_ , I don't know... " Duo was barely coherent, his words interrupted by harsh gasps of air and choked sobs. Trowa sighed slightly, examining the wall beside him until he located a light switch. He flipped it on.  
  
He immediately wished he hadn't.  
  
Duo's horrified gasp and deranged keening wail accompanied the strangely calm thought, _Déjà vu_ , which wandered through Trowa's mind at the sight of Heero sprawled in a slowly spreading pool of red.  
  
It only took Trowa a moment to reassess the view rationally, though.  
  
Something Duo didn't seem to be doing.  
  
Trowa carefully descended the steps, avoiding one that Heero had smashed in half on the way down, and knelt beside the Japanese boy, fastidiously avoiding the red pool on the dirty stone floor. Duo was still wailing in despair. Trowa wondered if he was going to have to slap the distraught American.  
  
It didn't sound like a bad idea, actually.  
  
The force of his blow snapped Duo's head to the side, his shrieking cut off abruptly. Wide violet eyes, welling with tears of guilt, grief and confusion turned back towards Trowa after a moment. Then Duo glanced down at Heero and Trowa thought he might get the chance to smack the other boy again.  
  
"Oh God, Trowa," Duo moaned miserably, his hands twitching towards Heero but not quite touching him. "Oh my God, what did I do? Jesus, there's so much blood... Is he gonna die? He can't! Trowa, I ­ "  
  
"Duo," Trowa said firmly, grabbing the pointed chin and forcing Duo to meet his steady gaze. "He's not going to die," Trowa continued flatly, in a tone that brooked no argument.  
  
"But... there's so much blood," Duo argued weakly, obviously wanting to believe Trowa's reassurance.  
  
Trowa sighed wearily. "It's not blood, Duo. It's wine."  
  
Duo blinked rapidly in surprise and confusion. "But... he fell... he hit... wine?" Duo finally managed weakly, sounding baffled by the concept.  
  
Trowa nodded slowly. "Look around you," he added as he bent over to check Heero for any real damage. As expected, there were bumps and bruises and cuts, but it took a lot more than a spill down the stairs and a collision with an ancient wine rack to seriously damage Heero Yuy.  
  
Duo, meanwhile, was finally looking around the cellar. "Wow," he murmured in astonished awe.  
  
Sitting back from his examination of Heero, Trowa had to admit it was a rather impressive sight. "I think we know why the Winners bought this place," he observed wryly.  
  
Duo could only nod in agreement, his eyes wide as saucers. A big, dopey grin slowly spread itself across his face. Trowa frowned, not trusting that expression in the slightest.  
  
"Duo?" he asked warily.  
  
Duo ignored him as he stood, looking around in an apparently happy daze, and wandered slowly away.  
  
Trowa merely raised an eyebrow in dubious consideration as Duo began exploring the many aisles of packed and dusty wine racks, pulling out random bottles to examine their labels. Heero moaned softly on the floor. Trowa shook his head at the semi-conscious boy. "It might be smarter to stay unconscious," he advised.  
  
Duo giggled softly, somewhere in the gloom. Trowa sighed. He had a bad feeling about this.  
  
+  
  
Heero frowned at the doorway to the wine cellar, still hanging open a few hours later. This was partially because Heero's earlier passage through the concealed door had very nearly destroyed the latch mechanism, but also because Duo was down there.  
  
The American had only left the cellar to grudgingly help Trowa drag Heero back upstairs to clean up his minor wounds, then had immediately scampered back below, where he had remained for the past three hours.  
  
Heero was burning with curiosity as to what Duo could be doing down there for all this time.  
  
Trowa didn't seem interested.  
  
"What is he doing down there?" Heero asked again anyway, because after the events of the past few weeks, he found himself increasingly nervous whenever Duo was out of his direct line of sight.  
  
Trowa, as he had the last five times Heero had asked this question, shrugged and replied flatly, "Not bothering us."  
  
Heero scowled at the tall boy. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on with Trowa. He'd seen him kissing Duo on the porch, and couldn't quite understand how even Trowa, renowned for his reserve, could now be ignoring Duo and acting, if anything, mildly annoyed by the American.  
  
Heero hadn't kissed Duo for over a week, and he could barely restrain himself from pelting down to the basement every time he heard a distant tinkle of broken glass or a deranged giggle.  
  
Was it... somehow... possible that Trowa hadn't enjoyed kissing Duo?  
  
Recalling his own experience, Heero couldn't understand how this could be the case, but Trowa certainly didn't seem anxious for Duo to rejoin them. In fact, the taller pilot kept shooting irritated glances at the cellar doorway.  
  
Heero's scowl deepened. He was getting very tired of all this... emotional messiness he was constantly floundering around in these days. He hadn't been trained for this sort of thing. Socialization had not been high on his superiors' list of priorities for their perfect soldier.  
  
Heero had never been long on patience, and he was rapidly reaching the end of his limited supply.  
  
"Why are you mad at Duo?" Heero demanded of Trowa.  
  
The taller pilot looked up from the book he'd been reading, a ratty old romance novel someone had left behind in the cabin, and stared impassively at Heero for a moment. Finally, he shrugged and returned his attention to his book, muttering offhandedly, "He was being an ass."  
  
Heero crossed his bruised and bandaged arms over his chest pensively. Trowa and Duo had kissed. Now Trowa was mad at Duo. Trowa said this was because Duo was being an ass. He considered this information for a while, trying to formulate some scenario to make sense of what he knew, but finally gave up with an irritated grunt. Insufficient data to complete analysis.  
  
"I thought I was the ass," Heero pressed, hoping for clarification.  
  
Trowa glanced up at him again, and Heero got the impression from the narrowing of the green eyes that Trowa was rapidly reaching the end of his patience as well.  
  
"You don't hold the monopoly," Trowa informed him shortly.  
  
"Why is Duo an ass?" Heero asked bluntly, abandoning his attempt at subtlety.  
  
Trowa heaved an exasperated sigh and very pointedly laid his book down on the table, leaving it open to the page he'd been reading. He stared flatly at Heero. "Because he did something thoughtless for a very petty reason," Trowa explained slowly, as though speaking to an especially dimwitted child. "It seems to be the thing to do lately," he continued, his eyes narrowing.  
  
Heero's brows drew down menacingly over his eyes. "I wasn't being petty," he denied irritably. "I had a very good reason _\--_ "  
  
"My, my, my, you two sure are chatty today, aren'tcha?" Duo asked in an obnoxiously cheerful voice.  
  
Heero's head snapped around to the cellar door, to see the American leaning against the frame, grinning with psychotic glee and clutching several dark, dusty bottles in his arms. He had dust all over his black clothes, and cobwebs in his hair, but he didn't seem to mind. The wide grin was accompanied by a pair of wickedly sparkling violet eyes and brightly flushed cheeks.  
  
"S'like a reg'lar... coffee clatch," Duo continued. Then he giggled at his own remark, which had left both Trowa and Heero mildly confused.  
  
The giggle tugged at Heero's memory, and he shut his eyes with a groan.  
  
Duo was drunk.  
  
Duo giggled again, for some reason known only to him, and Heero opened his eyes warily to watch him walk unsteadily into the kitchen, finally depositing his load of bottles on the table between Heero and Trowa.  
  
Trowa sighed heavily and pushed his unfinished book away, looking up at Duo with wary impatience. Duo glanced back and forth between them, then began making faces that Heero supposed were meant to be Duo's impression of the looks they were giving him. He didn't think either of them had their eyes bugged out or their mouths turned down in a comically exaggerated frown, though. Duo looked more like a fish than he did either of his companions.  
  
When his imitation failed to get a response, Duo sighed exaggeratedly and shook his head. "You don't have to be quiet on my account," he informed them sincerely. "I don't like to be quiet."  
  
"I know," Heero couldn't restrain himself from muttering. He immediately cringed inwardly as Duo's rather bleary violet gaze locked onto his own, expecting another sudden burst of anger such as he had suffered for days whenever he dared to speak to Duo.  
  
But instead, Duo smiled happily at him and cheerfully agreed, "Yeah, you oughta know!" Then the American's face fell, though, and he declared mournfully, "You like me to be quiet, though... No noise, no noise, _shhh_... " Duo raised his finger in front of his mouth, nearly sticking it up his nose in the process, and shushed Heero and Trowa insistently, his eyes so wide they were nearly round.  
  
Trowa was eyeing Duo warily, and Heero found himself at a loss for a reply. He wasn't quite sure what the situation was here. Had Duo forgiven Heero? Had his plan worked after all, and knocking him down the stairs had released the tension between them? Or was Duo just too drunk to remember he was angry at Heero? Or was he just pretending not to be angry, to lull Heero into a false sense of security...   
  
Heero decided he would never be able to reason out Duo's motivation. It was a fairly useless thing to attempt when the American was sober, and when he was drunk, Heero had never had any luck predicting what he would do or say next.  
  
He decided to fall back on his usual strategy for dealing with Duo in this condition: Don't piss him off. It was harder than it sounded, but Heero had had plenty of practice.  
  
So he didn't argue, merely picked up a bottle and accepted the corkscrew Duo had found somewhere when the American abruptly demanded, "Drink with me!" Trowa looked decidedly less than thrilled at the idea, but Heero shot him a very pointed glance, and with another long-suffering sigh, he acquiesced, grabbing a bottle as well. Duo beamed at them both and staggered off toward the couch in the small sitting room area which had been Heero's bedroom for a week.  
  
Heero followed quickly, and attempted to sit on the lumpy couch beside Duo. Duo had thrown himself down on it sideways, his legs stretched across the middle cushion, and when Heero attempted to sit, he very firmly planted one dirty bare foot on Heero's behind and shoved. "No! You cannot sit by me!" Duo declared loudly.  
  
Heero frowned at the American, but some of Duo's good humor seemed to have evaporated, and there was a decidedly irritable gleam in his eyes as he stared at Heero. Much as he would have liked to protest, as there was plenty of room on the couch and Trowa had already settled into the room's only other chair, Heero knew better, especially after the last several days, than to tempt Duo's ire. With a sigh, he settled on the floor in front of the couch. He glanced back to see if he was allowed to lean against it, but Duo's satisfied smirk seemed to indicate he felt his victory was complete.  
  
Heero scowled and took a hearty swig from his bottle.  
  
Alcohol, and indeed any mind-altering substance, was another thing declared off limits to him by his trainers. Dr. J had lectured him many times about how drinking could affect judgment and lower inhibitions. This was a battle Heero had lost long ago, though. Duo had worn him down very quickly after just a few nights of beer swilling in their dorm room. One night the braided boy had brought all his considerable powers of persuasion to bear on an already curious Heero, and he had giving in to temptation, allowing Duo's arguments that they were alone in the room so he couldn't betray the mission to sway him into accepting a can.  
  
It had tasted horrible, but Duo had assured him the first always did, but after a few you stopped noticing it so much. Heero hadn't believed him, and Duo had challenged Heero to test the theory. A few hours later, Heero had rather groggily acknowledged Duo to be correct. Then he had passed out.  
  
It was always easier, though, to break the rules the second time... precisely why Heero had tried to ensure Duo would never offer to sleep with him again after their first time. He knew he wouldn't have had the strength to refuse now that he knew exactly what it was he had wanted for so long from the American...   
  
Heero scowled at the thought. Not only did he lack the strength to refuse, he had actually been so weak as to seek Duo out and proposition him instead... Heero took another long sip from his bottle.  
  
Wine was better than beer, he decided. It still tasted weird, but he guessed the same rule would hold true, and he wouldn't notice after a while. Glancing again at Duo who was watching him through narrowed eyes, as though expecting him to make another attempt on the couch, Heero decided to test the theory.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Okay, this part is much longer than the previous ones... and yes, it's the last! Yay! The reason this section is so long is that this last part is all one big long piece from Trowa's perspective, so there was nowhere to break it up, really. And now the embarrassing admission? This section devolves into the ever-cliche drinking game scenario. Sigh. What can I say, it's one of my earlier pieces. Oh well, hope it's somewhat entertaining, and thanks for reading!
> 
> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Trowa took a small sip from his bottle to appease Duo as the American glanced briefly at him. He had no intention of getting drunk, especially not after the stunt Duo had pulled earlier. Trowa was still feeling a little off balance over the kiss on the porch.

He had been wondering, ever since it happened, _why_ it had happened. At first, Duo's motivation had seemed simple enough, and in his flustered anger at being caught unawares and used thoughtlessly by the American Trowa had dismissed his own initial concerns about Duo seeking reassurance. But after taking some time to reflect, he'd begun to wonder if Duo's reasons had been so clear cut after all, or if there had been more going on in the boy's mind than Trowa was aware.  
  
As he watched Duo intently watching Heero suck down his wine at a respectable rate, Trowa decided that this just might be a fine opportunity to try to lift a few of Duo's veils of self-defensive secrecy.

 _In vino veritas_ , Trowa thought to himself, concealing a small smirk behind the bottle. He would find out what was going on in Duo's head, and then he would make up his mind whether or not he could forgive the braided boy's actions.  
  
Trowa bided his time, waiting while Heero finished his first bottle and retrieved a second for himself and another for Duo, who was already several sheets to the wind. Then he innocently suggested, "Let's play a game."  
  
Heero immediately shot him a wary look and shook his head quellingly, but Heero seemed to have decided his new mission in life was placating Duo. Trowa couldn't blame him, Heero probably didn't want to go bouncing down any more staircases, but Trowa didn't share Heero's need to get back on Duo's good side.  
  
"What should we play?" Duo asked eagerly, diverted from his scrutiny of Heero by this new idea. Trowa smiled slightly. Heero, he was certain, would have little or no experience with drinking games. From what he knew of the Japanese pilot, Trowa guessed that any drinking Heero had done in the past had been in the safety of a dorm room or a secluded safe house. Duo, on the other hand, was just as likely as Trowa himself to know a vast range of such games, though for somewhat different reasons.  
  
Trowa was, above all else, a chameleon. Blending into an environment, infiltrating unobtrusively, was his specialty. This was just as true in boarding schools as it was in military organizations. Students like Heero, who were coldly antisocial, attracted a lot more notice in the end than those like Duo, who were friendly and outgoing. While Trowa was naturally somewhat withdrawn and preferred solitude to Duo's usual gang of acquaintances and admirers, he was quite capable of fitting in among such people. To that end, he maintained at least some awareness of popular culture, and also things like the sorts of party games normal high school students played.  
  
"How about 'I Never'?" Trowa suggested casually.  
  
Duo blinked at him in surprise for a moment, then smiled in understanding, apparently reasoning out quickly why Trowa would know such a game. Trowa noted that the American was apparently not yet drunk enough to have slowed his faculties sufficiently for a blunt attack. He would have to bide his time.  
  
Heero just regarded Trowa blankly with a slightly sulky pout for having his silent warning ignored. It was an unusual expression to see on the usually stoic pilot's face, and Trowa took it as an indication that Heero was already a bit tipsy.  
  
"Great idea, Tro!" Duo declared enthusiastically, and Heero rolled his eyes wearily. Duo kicked him in the head, but not hard. Heero scowled at the braided boy. "It's easy, Heero," Duo told him, his tone grudgingly soothing. "Even you can manage it. You just say 'I never... ' and then... you know, something that you never do... or that you did do, it doesn't matter, but everybody who has done whatever you say has to drink," Duo explained. Trowa wondered if he was being deliberately confusing.  
  
Not wanting to waste time on explanations, Trowa cut in. "For example, Heero, if I said I never failed a history test, then anyone in the room who ever _did_ fail a history test would have to drink," Trowa explained, smirking slightly as Duo shot him a dirty look and drank from his bottle.  
  
"Low blow, you know I had a mission the night before," Duo muttered, but he was grinning as he said it.  
  
Trowa's smirk widened slightly in reply. "And anyone who never failed a history test _doesn't_ have to drink," Trowa finished.  
  
Heero frowned. "What's the point?" he asked flatly.  
  
Duo kicked him gently in the head again, rolling his eyes. "What's the point of any drinking game, stupid? To get drunker quicker, and to get your friends drunker than you! You try to come up with stuff that won't make you have to drink, but will make the other people. Like Trowa just did to me," Duo elaborated impatiently. Heero, from his scowl, still didn't see much point to the game, but Duo enthusiastically continued, "Me next! Okay, gotta think of a good one... " Duo studied Trowa through narrowed eyes for a moment, then his gaze shifted to Heero. Trowa felt a small surge of triumph. Duo could have gone for the easy revenge and said something about performing in a circus, but instead seemed more interested in getting Heero drunk. That was a good sign. Finally, Duo continued, "I never spent more than four hours straight working on a stupid laptop!" He smiled triumphantly at Heero, who glowered back but obediently drank.  
  
"Your turn, Heero," Trowa prompted. Here was another potential problem. If Heero displayed once again the astonishing lack of compassion and tact that had become his calling card lately, this game could rapidly turn into yet another unproductive fight. Trowa was quite interested in drawing information out of Duo, but not until the braided boy was drunk enough to be less touchy and liable to attack or bolt.  
  
But as Trowa had thought earlier, Heero was more eager to get back into Duo's good graces than to get revenge for his earlier fall down the stairs. The Japanese boy solemnly considered his situation for a moment, then stated firmly, "I never sing in the shower."  
  
Duo let out a burst of laughter that sounded slightly nervous before taking a long drink from his bottle. Trowa discreetly sipped at his own, considering the apparent fact that Duo had been worried Heero would take a cheap shot. Duo was edgy, then. Better to let him get comfortable for a while. Trowa racked his brain for an innocuous statement.  
  
After about half an hour, they were all running out of innocuous suggestions and Trowa found that he'd drunk a little more than he intended, and was beginning to feel a bit woozy himself. Duo's head was lolling on his shoulders, a wide grin permanently stretching his mouth, and Heero kept trying to ease himself onto the couch, only to be shoved off by Duo's vigilant feet.  
  
It was Duo's turn, and he'd been pondering for a few minutes. Finally he shook his head and sighed, though the grin remained in place. "Oh well, I can't come up with anything else generic," he declared, though he didn't sound terribly disappointed in himself. The grin twisted into a devilish smirk. "I never found another Gundam pilot attractive," Duo declared firmly, and immediately took a long drink from his bottle.  
  
Heero blinked in drunken confusion for a minute until Duo's foot hit his head, making him sway alarmingly. He pouted up at Duo, who glowered back at him. "Weren't you ever attracted to another Gundam pilot, Heero?" he demanded sharply. Heero jumped slightly and quickly took a healthy swig from his bottle. Duo subsided, smiling in satisfaction.  
  
Trowa, meanwhile, found himself with a dilemma. Had Duo gone for the level of crudity he'd expected, and made the comment about sexual thoughts or fantasies, there would have been no question of him drinking. A tiny part of his conscience might have brought forth evidence of half-remembered dreams, but dreams didn't count in Trowa's opinion.  
  
But finding another pilot attractive...   
  
It was really another topic altogether. After all, you could find someone attractive without... being attracted to them... or wanting...   
  
Trowa frowned, but in the end there was nothing else for it. He took a drink.  
  
He lowered the bottle to find the other two staring at him in open-mouthed astonishment. Heero he could understand, the Japanese pilot was generally oblivious to such things, even when Heero was the one experiencing them. But Duo... of course Duo was shocked because of what Trowa had said to him earlier on the porch...   
  
Trowa saw the calculating gleam enter Duo's eyes, burning off a bit of the alcohol haze, and knew he was in for a few uncomfortable questions. He shouldn't have taken the drink, but he was buzzed enough to have gotten caught up in the game and been unintentionally honest. He would have to try harder to maintain his focus in the future.  
  
For now, it was his turn, and he decided he would help this little fiasco along to it's inevitable conclusion as quickly as possible. "I never was attracted to Quatre," he said firmly, his bottle remaining comfortably nestled in his lap. Duo snorted slightly and rolled his eyes. Heero took advantage of the momentary distraction to slide his arms onto the couch and lean back on them.  
  
The Japanese boy then pretended to be pondering his own statement, and let his head fall backward to roll on the couch cushion, staring up at the ceiling. Duo watched him with a knowing grin, but refrained from kicking him off again. Finally, Heero announced, "I never was attracted to Wufei."  
  
The Japanese pilot goggled in amazement as Duo shrugged and took a drink. Trowa blinked in surprise. Duo grinned at them both.  
  
"What can I say?" he asked innocently. "Asian guys really do it for me." He paused to chuckle, and Heero scooted his upper body a little higher on the couch. "That being said," Duo continued, still ignoring Heero's progress, "I never was attracted to Heero." He took a much longer drink from his bottle, allowing a gleeful Heero to slide himself fully onto the couch. When Duo finally lowered his bottle, he gave Heero a flat, unfriendly stare, but made no attempt to boot him off, since he was huddled carefully beyond Duo's reach.  
  
Trowa watched this byplay thoughtfully as he considered the statement of the moment. Heero. He studied the Japanese boy, noting the lean, sharply defined muscles, the smooth golden skin, the almost delicate features so at odds with the deadly soldier within...   
  
Yes, there was something... Trowa drank quickly. Heero missed it, being too focused on not being kicked off the couch, but Duo noticed, his eyes narrowing in consideration. Trowa inwardly cursed himself again. He must be drunker than he'd thought. The last thing he needed was for Duo to decide he was a rival for Heero...   
  
Duo watched Trowa closely as he said quietly, "I never was attracted to Duo."  
  
Heero, not needing prompting, chugged the remainder of his bottle, then stared at Duo in drunken fascination. Duo was not taking his eyes off Trowa. Trowa debated his course of action for a while, but finally decided there was really no other way to go. Honesty seemed to be the theme of the evening, and if he wanted Duo to be open with him, he supposed he might have to take the first step in trust.  
  
He drank from the bottle.  
  
When he lowered it, Duo looked both confused and satisfied, and Heero...   
  
Heero was glaring furiously at Trowa. "You can't have him," he growled, his hands clenching into fists, the empty bottle falling unnoticed to the floor. "He's mine!"  
  
And with that, Heero launched himself up the length of the couch, landing sprawled on top of a very annoyed Duo. "What the hell do you mean, I'm yours! You son of a bitch! Fucking bastard _\--_ " Duo was floundering around under Heero, who remained draped over the smaller boy, glaring at Trowa. Finally, Duo grabbed Heero's face in his hands and forced the Japanese boy to look at him. "Heero. Get. Off," Duo said flatly.  
  
Heero pouted again. "I'm trying to," he replied plaintively.  
  
Duo stared at him in amazement for a moment, then muttered, "I can't believe you just said that."  
  
Heero just sighed and wriggled his head out of Duo's grasp, then determinedly nuzzled in against the American's neck, hiding his face. Slightly muffled, but still quite distinct, the words, "I'm sorry," emerged from that general area.  
  
Duo paused in his efforts to push Heero off of him, his eyes wide as he stared up at the ceiling. "Sorry for what?" he murmured quietly.  
  
The creaking of tree branches outside could be heard during the long, silent pause until Heero answered, just as quietly, "For everything."  
  
Duo's eyes slid shut, and Trowa watched as the American bit his lip, his features twisting in what looked as much like pain as relief. Duo's grip on Heero shifted, and he suddenly hugged the Japanese boy tightly against him.  
  
Then, with an exhalation so sharp it was almost a sob, Duo abruptly pushed Heero away, though not roughly, and then sat up himself, curling into an upright ball, his legs clutched to his chest, chin resting on his knees. His wide violet eyes were dry, but staring blankly at the old carpet on the floor. Heero sat beside him, not quite daring to touch him again, obviously not sure what Duo's reaction to his apology meant. His hands fluttered uncertainly for a moment before settling into his lap as he watched Duo intently.  
  
After a moment, Duo drew a deep breath, and it was only then that Trowa realized how still the American had been holding himself. Into the uneasy silence, Duo said quietly, "Let's play a different game."  
  
Trowa stared hard at the braided boy, taking a sip of his wine as he pondered this latest occurrence. It looked like Heero might benefit from this evening's activities, but Trowa had not yet gotten what he wanted. Duo had probably been able to figure out why Heero had done what he did, and now he had his apology. Trowa already had his apology from Duo, but he still wanted an explanation.  
  
He didn't think waiting would improve his odds. He lowered the bottle and suggested softly, "How about Truth or Dare?"  
  
Heero was too busy staring at Duo to even acknowledge Trowa's suggestion. Duo continued to stare at the carpet, but murmured, "S'not really a drinking game."  
  
Trowa nodded in agreement, not really caring that no one was watching him to see it, but argued, "I think we're all doing just fine on the drinking anyway."  
  
Duo shrugged and raised his gaze from the floor. The violet eyes were dark and distant, and Trowa wondered where Duo's mind was. "Who starts?" Duo asked calmly.  
  
Trowa considered this for a moment. _Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained._ "I will," he decided. "I'll take... truth," he offered warily. He wasn't thrilled about this, but found the prospect of what Duo might dare him to do even more daunting than revealing a secret.  
  
Duo's eyes narrowed as his attention returned fully to the present. "Okay," he said, "so why were you so mad at me for kissing you before?"  
  
Heero blinked in surprise at this question, looking back and forth between Duo and Trowa with an astonished expression that clearly read 'Duo kissed you and you were mad about it?' Trowa frowned at the American. He had been expecting something along those lines.  
  
Trowa finally dropped his gaze to his lap, staring at his hands as he answered thoughtfully, "It's... a matter of trust, Duo. I can only allow myself to be as close to all of you as I am because... I trust you to let me keep my distance." He looked up at the braided boy, expecting a protest and a demand for a clearer answer, but Duo was staring back with understanding and remorse shadowing his violet gaze.  
  
"I really am sorry," Duo said sincerely. Trowa considered this for a moment, then nodded in acceptance. Suddenly, he felt much better about the whole episode. For a moment he even considered letting Duo off the hook.  
  
But then he reasoned that finding out what was going on in Duo's head was as much for the American's benefit as to satisfy his own curiosity. Purpose reaffirmed, he looked expectantly at Heero.  
  
Heero either was more familiar with this game than the last, or wasn't so drunk as to have completely lost the capacity to reason.  
  
"I'll take dare," he declared firmly.  
  
Duo's eyes glinted evilly, but before the braided boy could get a word in, Trowa called out, "I dare you to trade pants with Duo."  
  
Duo shot him an incredulous look. "Trowa!" He protested. "It's not my turn! How come I have to _\--_ "  
  
"Because that's my dare," Trowa interrupted firmly. Duo rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, but he stood up and shimmied out of his dusty jodhpurs, throwing them over Heero's head and grabbing the spandex shorts the other boy held out.  
  
Duo pulled the shorts on quickly, but Heero struggled briefly with the jodhpurs, not used to so much fabric. When he finally got them pulled up, Duo had to help with the button and zipper, and was less than thrilled to find the waistband looser on Heero than on himself. Trowa smirked quietly at the glower Duo gave Heero for daring to have a narrower waist than he did. Not that Duo was fat, but the two had different builds. After a moment, Duo huffily curled up in the corner of the couch, while Heero carefully sat out of range of the American's fists or feet, nervously picking at the loose material of the strange pants.  
  
"Well, Duo? Truth or dare?" Trowa asked calmly, pretending not to have noticed the American's fit of wounded vanity.  
  
Duo glowered suspiciously at Trowa. He'd asked the tall pilot a fairly personal question, and probably expected similar treatment if he chose truth. But he hadn't much enjoyed Trowa's last dare either. Still, there was a chance that Heero would think of something before Trowa did...   
  
Trowa could read Duo's train of reason quite clearly from the braided boy's face. He repressed a smirk. Duo, of course, wouldn't realize that Trowa had been biding his time all evening, planning his attack carefully...   
  
"Dare," Duo said flatly. He looked expectantly at Heero, but the Japanese boy just blinked at him in confusion.  
  
"I dare you to put on the shirt Heero gave you earlier," Trowa said quietly.  
  
Duo's head whipped around so fast his braid flew out and smacked Heero in the head. His violet eyes were wide, his face pale with shock. For a moment, he just stared blankly at Trowa. Then, very quietly, he asked, "Why?"  
  
Trowa felt a twinge of guilt at the expression on Duo's face. He'd known this would upset the American, but... well, it was the best way he could think of to get what he wanted from the boy. Trowa steeled his resolve and shook his head slowly. "The rules don't require me to give a reason," he pointed out. Duo stared at him for a while longer, and Trowa wondered if the braided boy would simply refuse. But finally, Duo stood up and walked into the kitchen, quickly stripping off his tee shirt and pulling on the clingy purple mesh top. He walked back into the living room and resumed his seat, face blank of expression. His violet stare was fastened firmly on Trowa.  
  
Trowa stared back for a moment, then opened himself up to attack. "Dare," he said quietly.  
  
Duo smiled nastily. "I dare you to kiss Heero," he said immediately. Now it was Heero's head that snapped around, and the Japanese pilot stared incredulously at Duo.  
  
"But... Duo... " he protested.  
  
"Shut up," Duo snarled, turning to scowl at his erstwhile lover. Heero wisely shut up. Duo looked ready to spit nails.  
  
Trowa sighed and rose slowly to his feet. He'd expected Duo to do something like this in retaliation. As soon as he'd given his earlier answer, he knew Duo had filed away the information under 'potential weaknesses to exploit.' Hopefully it would be worth it in the end.  
  
Heero regarded him dubiously as he knelt before the couch. "I'm not very good at this," the Japanese boy informed him warily.  
  
Trowa smiled slightly. "That's all right, I'm probably a bit rusty myself," he assured Heero, and then without further preamble simply grabbed the back of the shorter pilot's neck and pulled his head down, pressing their lips together.  
  
It was a brief kiss, and Trowa made no effort to deepen it, pulling away quickly. Heero's lips had been slightly parted, and had left a wet smear across his own mouth. Trowa fastidiously wiped his mouth on his sleeve as he returned to his seat.  
  
Duo was frowning at Trowa, obviously irritated that his ploy hadn't caused the tall pilot much discomfort. Heero just shook his head, shrugged, and said firmly, "Truth."  
  
Trowa kept his mouth shut. He'd already gotten everything he needed from Heero, and Duo might relax a bit if he got to torment the Japanese boy.  
  
Duo stared thoughtfully at Heero for quite some time before finally asking quietly, "Why'd you pay me?"  
  
Heero scowled darkly, buying time and perhaps steeling his nerves by retrieving a new bottle of wine from the kitchen and chugging half of it. Finally, he gave a sigh of defeat and met Duo's intent violet stare.  
  
"I was never supposed to... do what we did that night. With anyone. Ever. That was part of my training. But I was weak, and I couldn't stop myself... " Heero shook his head, frowning. Trowa had expected Duo to be red-faced and shrieking by now, but the American was just watching Heero closely, sipping his wine. Finally, Heero continued. "It happened, and there was nothing I could do to change that. I mean, I didn't want to change it, but... I knew I could never let it happen again. It was a danger _\--_ "  
  
"How was it a danger?" Duo interrupted softly. Heero frowned at him. Trowa elected not to point out that the Japanese boy was under no obligation to answer the question. He wanted to see if Heero had the logic worked out any better now than he had the morning after.  
  
"It was... you would be... a distraction," Heero attempted to explain. "When I needed to be focused on my mission, as long as I had no ties, no connections, there was nothing to clutter up my mind. But if you were in my mind... " Heero shrugged, not able to explain himself any further, it seemed.  
  
Duo frowned and cocked his head inquisitively. "So you paid me so you wouldn't think about me?" Duo pressed, the anger and hurt he'd displayed so frequently since the incident strangely absent. "If you paid me, that made it something trivial, just a physical release?"  
  
Heero was shaking his head vehemently, "No, that's not it," he protested. "Paying you... it was just... I was trying to tell you it could never happen again. That's all."  
  
Duo was chewing thoughtfully on his lip, mulling over Heero's words. But apparently, he still wasn't quite clear on what Heero was saying. "But why did you choose... _that_ to tell me?" Duo asked, confusion in his voice. "Why not just say it to my face? You had to know it was... kind of insulting to pay me," Duo pointed out.  
  
Heero was playing with Duo's pants again, staring intently at a tiny hole on his right thigh. A long, silent moment passed before the Japanese boy answered. "I... couldn't say it to your face. It was all I could do to get out of bed. I had to... I knew it would make you angry. And if you were angry, then you wouldn't want me... so... "  
  
"You chickenshit," Duo muttered, but there was no anger in his tone, only weariness and grudging affection. Heero looked up in surprise, obviously not expecting Duo to speak to him in that tone of voice. "You deliberately pissed me off because you were too... smitten to turn me down to my face." Duo shook his head, chuckling ruefully.  
  
"I didn't mean to make you that mad," Heero told him, drunk enough that his face had assumed an unaccustomed sincere expression.

Duo seemed to ponder letting it go at that for a moment, but then he shook his head and sighed. "You didn't really make me mad," he said quietly. "You hurt me."  
  
Heero turned back to contemplating his pants. "I know," he whispered miserably. "I didn't mean to, I just didn't think that you... I didn't realize... "  
  
"It doesn't matter," Duo interrupted, waving his hand dismissively.   
  
Trowa blinked in surprise when Heero turned and caught Duo's hand, holding it gently by the wrist. The American turned to stare at Heero in astonishment, and Heero murmured intensely, "It does."  
  
Duo blinked at Heero, face blank with surprise, for a few minutes. Then he grinned slightly and said quietly, "Okay."  
  
Trowa wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but it seemed to please Heero, because the Japanese boy allowed a small smile to curve his lips as he sat there, still holding Duo's wrist. Finally, Duo gently tugged his hand free, but didn't protest when Heero shifted over to sit closer to him.  
  
Duo sighed and let his head fall back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Enough tension drained from his body to make it evident to Trowa just how tightly strung Duo had been for quite some time. "Dare," Duo said quietly to the ceiling.  
  
Trowa glanced at Heero, but the Japanese boy was raptly studying Duo's profile, and obviously not the slightest bit interested in testing his luck any further. Trowa considered moving forward with his own agenda, but the timing felt wrong. And he didn't want to ruin this moment for the two of them. When they weren't both acting like morons, he thought they were rather good together. He decided to give them a little push.  
  
"I dare you to kiss Heero," he said.  
  
Duo raised his head to stare flatly at Trowa, and the blank face and empty eyes set the taller pilot's nerves back on edge. He'd thought Duo was warming to Heero again, but now the American looked so cold...   
  
Finally, Duo turned toward Heero and Trowa saw the Japanese boy pale slightly. He didn't flinch or back away though, which was more than Trowa thought _he_ could have managed if he'd been that close to the darkness behind Duo's eyes.  
  
Duo uncoiled from his curled position on the couch like a large snake, sinuous and deathly graceful. Then he turned and began advancing slowly toward Heero, his movements controlled and aggressive. He crowded the Japanese pilot against the back of the couch and loomed slightly over him. Trowa caught a glimpse of a twisted, predatory grin as Duo brought his face closer to Heero.  
  
He was beginning to think this might not have been a good idea. But before Trowa could say anything, Heero finally pulled back slightly to avoid Duo's lips, and whispered nervously, "Duo?"  
  
Duo froze instantly. Trowa couldn't see the American's face, but he heard the boy's voice shake slightly as he murmured, "Don't make me do this again, Heero... If it doesn't mean anything, please don't ask me... "  
  
Heero stared, wide-eyed, into Duo's face, and slowly raised one hand. He laid it gently against the braided boy's cheek. "It does, Duo," he assured the American softly. His gaze was intense as he continued, "I know what I'm asking this time. I know what it means to ask. And I know... at least a little... what it means for you to give me what I'm asking. I promise... I swear... I won't hurt you again."  
  
Trowa didn't even begin to understand that speech, but it seemed to make sense to Duo. The American's shoulders slumped slightly as he sighed. He shifted his weight to one hand and laid the other over Heero's on his cheek. "Of course you will," he said wearily. "But it's different when you don't mean to do it."  
  
Heero frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but Duo silenced him in the most effective manner. Trowa found himself studying the ceiling, which was odd. He'd seen plenty of people kissing, and never bothered to look away before. But something about that incomprehensible conversation had turned this kiss into a very private, important event between the other two boys, and he didn't want to intrude.  
  
He wasn't sure what Heero had said to affect Duo so strongly, but he was glad the Japanese boy had managed it. Trowa silently berated himself for not thinking. He should have known how Duo would react to that dare. He'd planned for the braided boy to be in that state of mind. It was just lucky that Heero knew how to get him out of it. Trowa didn't want to be the cause of any more stress in that particular relationship. They did just fine in that department without any outside assistance.  
  
Finally, he heard someone moving over on the couch, and took a chance that the two were separating, not... joining. He didn't think they were quite that drunk. Not Duo at least.  
  
Still, he heaved an internal sigh of relief to find Duo safely settled in his corner again, not plastered half-naked to Heero. Heero had moved over so he was now leaning against the American, but that was all right, Trowa supposed.  
  
He took a long drink from his bottle in celebration of not having horribly misjudged the situation, and immediately regretted it. When he straightened back up, his head swam and he had to blink to focus his eyes. He looked at his bottle and realized in surprise that it was almost empty. He must have been sipping at it throughout the whole game without realizing...   
  
He looked over at Duo and saw a mischievous smirk on the braided boy's face.  
  
Well, that was it then. He was in for it. Trowa weighed his options for a moment, and finally decided to go with the less physically threatening.  
  
"Truth," he announced warily.  
  
Duo's smirk widened. He glanced briefly at Heero to warn him into silence, but the Japanese boy was completely absorbed in working the tips of his fingers through the mesh weave of Duo's shirt. Duo smiled benignly at Heero, then turned back to Trowa with an evil glint in his eyes. "So... did you enjoy kissing either of us at all?" Duo asked conversationally. The braided boy raised his eyebrows, the very picture of innocent inquisitiveness.  
  
Trowa narrowed his eyes slightly, but gave no other outward sign of his discomfort. The question was a delicate one. If he said yes, he might give the other boys the wrong idea, but if he said no, well...   
  
"I'd be lying if I said no," Trowa admitted slowly. Duo's eyes flashed with triumph, but Trowa quickly added, "But that doesn't mean that I really enjoyed it either." Duo frowned at this statement, and Trowa could just see an 'either you did or you didn't' comment approaching. He warded it off with a raised hand. "Duo... I told you before, I'm just... not interested in men. The truth is, I'm not interested in women either. There are reasons for that, but I don't really want to go into them right now, and I'm sure you've probably figured them out anyway." He paused to look meaningfully at Duo, who slowly nodded, his expression grim. Trowa shrugged, trying to physically cast off the chill touch of memory. Heero seemed not to be paying attention to their conversation. Trowa sighed and continued, "I... could stand to have you that close, to let you kiss me, because you are... my friends. Because even when you're being asses," here he paused to shoot Duo a pointed glance, gratified by the American's embarrassed flush, "I know that, deep down, you do... care about me. As I... care about you. It was... not entirely bad to be... touched, to feel that close to you both... But that was all. I do get lonely sometimes, and like I said before, you and the others are the only people I can trust enough to be that close to."  
  
Duo didn't look thrilled with this answer, but he simply nodded in acceptance and turned his attention to Heero, who was still concentrating on working his fingers into Duo's shirt, apparently so he could touch the pale skin beneath. Most of Duo's bruises had faded away, but there were still a few large patches of sickly yellow-green on his stomach and chest. Duo ran his fingers fondly through Heero's eternally disheveled hair and informed him, "It's your turn, Hee-chan."  
  
Heero wrinkled his nose at the nickname, looking like a disgruntled kitten. Further enhancing the feline image, he butted his head gently against Duo's shoulder as he asked, "Can't we stop playing?" The tone was almost whiny, and it would have been amusing if the question hadn't posed such a dilemma for Trowa. He still hadn't gotten around to asking Duo the question he wanted answered, but he certainly couldn't admit to having an ulterior motive for suggesting the game if Duo asked to stop.  
  
But Duo just cast Trowa an unreadable glance and said quietly, "I don't think Trowa's done yet." Heero frowned at this, but seemed to accept it as fact.  
  
"Just one more," Heero pressed stubbornly. Duo raised an eyebrow at Trowa. Trowa nodded slowly. Either he got what he wanted on Duo's next turn, or he gave up for the night. The game had already been far more productive than he had expected.  
  
Heero nodded in acceptance, and said firmly, "Dare."  
  
Duo seemed not the least bit interested in daring Heero to do anything. Probably because it was quite obvious Heero would have gone and jumped off the roof at the moment if Duo had asked him to. He didn't need to dare him. Trowa sighed. He wanted to get this over with. He was starting to feel very uneasy about his little plan, and not a little guilty. To assuage his conscience a bit, he decided to give Duo a little more comfort before his ordeal.  
  
"I dare you to kiss Duo," Trowa said. Heero gave him an incredulous look that said clearly 'why would you have to dare me to do that?' Duo just smiled slightly and turned toward Heero, tilting his head invitingly.  
  
But Heero lifted Duo's hand from the couch, turned it over, and placed a reverent kiss in the palm.  
  
Trowa was quite surprised, but Duo looked oddly stricken by the gesture. He held the hand Heero had kissed in his other hand and stared at it, eyes wide. Heero frowned, confused by Duo's reaction. He glanced nervously at Trowa, obviously worried he'd done something wrong, but the tall pilot was as puzzled as Heero.  
  
After a moment, Duo swallowed uncomfortably and murmured quietly, "Truth."  
  
Heero looked like there were questions he wanted to ask, but the Japanese boy held his silence, gazing at Trowa almost challengingly. Duo had told him Trowa wasn't finished. Obviously Duo was expecting Trowa to ask something of him. Heero's cold stare warned that it had better not be something bad.  
  
Trowa again considered letting the matter drop, not because of Heero's antagonism, but because of Duo's odd reaction to Heero's gesture. He'd thought the braided boy was more at ease than he now seemed.  
  
But that was all the more reason to carry through with his plan. Duo needed to vent.  
  
"How does it make you feel to wear those clothes?" Trowa asked quietly. Heero's eyes blazed and he actually began to growl low in his chest, but Duo reached over without looking and touched him gently on the shoulder, silencing him.  
  
"I feel... like myself," Duo said softly. "Like I'm not pretending for once. Like I'm... home again." His lips twisted in a bitter parody of a smile. Heero laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Duo didn't seem to notice. "I feel like what I am," he continued flatly. "Just another street kid, looking for a quick fuck to pay for my next trip to oblivion. Not the kind of person you trust, or care about, or... kiss on the hand." He paused again, staring pensively at the hand Heero had kissed, rubbing the palm with the thumb of his other hand.  
  
"What do you mean, you feel like what you are?" Trowa asked hesitantly. Duo was not answering this question as Trowa had expected him to. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, maybe something along the lines of 'it makes me feel cheap' or 'it makes me angry/sad/confused/disgusted.'  
  
"This... is what I am," Duo explained calmly. "It's what I used to be, what I still am, and... I don't know. Maybe it's all I'll ever be."  
  
"No it isn't. You're a Gundam pilot," Heero interjected firmly.  
  
Duo smiled wanly at his hand. "For how long?" he asked wearily. Finally he looked up, meeting first Heero's agitated gaze and then Trowa's worried eyes. His own eyes were shadowed and far too old for his face. "Say I survive the war. What then?" he asked, looking back and forth between the two of them. "I go back to the Sweepers? I was trouble on two feet. They were glad to see me go. Back to Hilde? Maybe for a while. How long until she figures out I'm not her knight in shining armor and tells me to move on? How long before I'm right back where I was before the Prof found me, peddling my ass for the price of a roof over my head... or worse?" Duo asked morosely.  
  
"What about me? You could stay with me," Heero argued, tightening his grip on Duo's shoulder as though the American were planning to leave right away.  
  
Duo shook his head. "You're not listening, Hee-chan. You're just like Hilde, only with sex. Sooner or later you're going to figure out what I'm saying here. You're going to realize what you're settling for, and _\--_ "  
  
"I'm not settling for anything!" Heero cut in angrily. "Damn it, Duo, I know I keep screwing it up, but I keep trying to show you that I... that you're... " Heero didn't seem to be able to find the words to express himself, so he buried his head against Duo's neck. After a moment, though, he muttered harshly, "You're... wonderful. You're beautiful. You're... everything I want. I'm just damn lucky you'll even look at me, especially after all the stupid things I've done lately."  
  
Duo leaned his cheek against Heero's hair, but his expression remained distant and pensive. "You don't understand now, Hee-chan. But you will someday. You're so much more than I deserve... "  
  
"Duo," Trowa cut in, frowning. This wasn't at all what he'd intended to provoke. He hadn't realized how deeply Duo's insecurities ran. This was becoming not only unproductive, but downright unhealthy. "Duo," he repeated, making sure he had the American's attention. "You're more than just a street kid. You know that. You're intelligent, an excellent pilot, a skilled mechanic, almost as good with computers as Heero... There's no reason you would ever have to return to the kind of hand to mouth existence that _\--_ "  
  
"You don't get it either," Duo cut in sharply. "I don't have to. But I will." Trowa frowned at him in confusion. Duo shook his head. "You don't know me... the way I've lived... No matter what I do to try to get away from... this," he paused, picking disgustedly at the mesh shirt, "I always end up right back where I started. Every time I've found friends, a life, a home... Eventually I lose it... I destroy it... and I go right back to the streets where I belong. That shouldn't be a revelation. You just saw me do it."  
  
"Duo," Trowa interrupted incredulously, "you were only doing what you did to provide for us! You were maintaining a low profile, keeping us all from being killed!"  
  
"I could have done something else," Duo argued calmly. Trowa and Heero both opened their mouths to deny the statement, but Duo silenced them both with an upraised hand. "I could have. I did what I did... because it was the easiest way. The most natural. I am what I am, and nothing will ever change that."  
  
"So after the war, you plan to go back to living on the streets as a prostitute?" Heero demanded angrily.  
  
"I don't plan to! I don't _want_ to!" Duo shot back furiously, his calm façade finally cracking. "I just know... in the end, that's where I always end up. A compass always points north, and Duo Maxwell always lands in the gutter," he muttered morosely, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.  
  
"Well, I hope it's a damn big gutter," Heero muttered after a long, tense silence.  
  
"What?" Duo asked, confused.  
  
Heero scowled at him. "You're not getting rid of me, Maxwell. I made you a promise, so that's it. You're stuck with me. If you end up in the gutter, I'll be right next to you."  
  
Trowa felt a smile threatening to spread across his face, both at Heero's words and the dumbfounded expression they had brought to Duo's face. After all the idiocy and stupidity of the past weeks, Heero had finally managed to get it right. Duo just continued to stare at him and blink in surprise. This was obviously not an argument he had expected, because it wasn't an argument.  
  
Astonishingly, Heero continued. "You are everything I want, Duo. Not just the pretty parts, not just the happy, nice parts... All of you."  
  
"Warts and all?" Duo asked lightly, an edge of hysteria in his voice as he stared raptly into Heero's steady gaze.  
  
"Warts and all," Heero agreed. Then he frowned slightly and added, "I don't remember any warts, though. Have to check again."  
  
It was as if Heero had opened the floodgates with that remark. Duo dissolved into a trembling mixture of laughter and tears, wrapping his arms around Heero in a manner that suggested he didn't intend to let go for several years. Heero seemed not at all displeased by this, and hugged Duo just as fiercely. The Japanese boy looked triumphant. Trowa smiled, shaking his head in amused relief.  
  
Ninmu kanryou, at long last, he supposed.  
  
In short order, Heero had swept Duo up in his arms and carted him off upstairs, where the bedroom door closed firmly and didn't reopen. Trowa was left staring at the couch, somewhat bemused at how the evening had ended. It seemed such an abrupt resolution...   
  
Trowa frowned to himself, reviewing the conversation. Actually, it wasn't even close to resolved, he realized. Duo would need a lot of reassurance before he even began to consider the possibility that he wasn't human garbage. All they'd really accomplished tonight was to clearly define the problem. And Heero had all but forced Duo to accept that whatever the future held for him, he wouldn't be facing it alone.  
  
It was a start, but... there was still a long way to go.  
  
"And miles to go before we sleep," Trowa misquoted. His mouth quirked upwards as he realized that somewhere along the line, he'd apparently decided that Duo wasn't getting rid of him, either. He chuckled to himself, rising from the chair and walking slowly into the kitchen. He glanced upwards when the bedsprings began to squeak faintly above him, then shook his head wearily and sat down at the table, picking up his book.  
  
Miles to go, indeed.  
  
He sighed as he resumed reading. It was a trashy, cheesy little book, but at least it helped pass the time.  
  
He turned the page, eyes scanning quickly down the type... and paused, frowning, about halfway down.  
  
He started reading aloud to himself, very softly.  
  
" 'Oh, I shall end in prison for certain," Blaine moaned, pressing his tear-dampened cheeks against Sophia's ample bosom.  
  
Sophia gently stroked his long, wavy hair, then declared firmly, "Well, I hope our cell shall be a large one."  
  
"My dearest?" Blaine murmured in confusion, raising his head from her breast.  
  
Sophia smiled radiantly at her beloved, love warming her eyes. "Well, if you are to go to prison, then I shall certainly go with you. I swore to be by your side always, my love," she stated fiercely.  
  
"You are too good for me!" Blaine protested, tears springing anew to his eyes. "How can you love a criminal such as I, my lady?"  
  
"Dearest," Sophia sighed, pressing his face once more to her soft breast, "I have told you before, you are everything I need, everything I love. I don't love you only for your handsome face, or your kindness... '"  
  
Trowa's voice trailed off as he continued to stare in astonishment at the book.  
  
It seemed Heero might require some assistance in the romance department.  
  
He sighed wearily, shaking his head. He would have to go to bed soon, regardless of the noise from across the hall. He was obviously going to need his rest.  
  
First, of course, he was going to have to get rid of the damn book before Duo saw it.  
  
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  
  
The bedsprings squeaked.  
  
He flipped to the last page to see how the story ended.  
  
Oddly enough, it made him feel better.


End file.
